


No One Special: A Squib's Tale

by AltheaG



Series: Confessions of a Recovering Squib [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts, M/M, Next-Generation, Squibs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-01-12 18:10:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 76,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1194627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AltheaG/pseuds/AltheaG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Professor Severus Snape as Headmaster of Hogwarts, life has gone on in the wizarding world. As everyone has set aside all the wars and strife of the past, new concerns spring up. This time, it's not a dark wizard or another Voldemort, but rather, a different sort of challenge--taking on the prejudices of the past and seeking new solutions.</p><p>Enter George Weasley-Chaucer, son of Ginny Weasley and Nigel Chaucer. George has a huge problem! While the rest of his large family are extremely powerful wizards and witches, George finds himself...lacking. As hard as he tries, he simply cannot seem to find that same level of magic that everyone else in his family has. George tries to take it all in stride and at first, is happy to embrace himself as differently-abled. </p><p>...and then things get complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Squib (2019)

You probably don’t know me, though I bet you know my parents, and maybe even my grandfather. They’re all pretty big deals in the wizarding world. Me…well, I’m just me. I’m the Squib.

It’s been a while since there was a Squib in the Prince family line, though from what I hear from Cousin Severus, there have been quite a few in the past. As far as I know, however, the Weasley family has never had a Squib before. So that’s where I fit in. I’m the one, the first in generations, the Special Child, the Charity Case.

Don’t worry about me, though. It’s okay. You’d think I’d have some sort of complex about being the only Squib in a family of extremely powerful wizards and witches, but really, I’m not. My Dad always sees to it that I get treated no differently from my other siblings—I know he’s trying to be nice, and in reality, it really does make a difference. Most wizard parents wouldn’t be so indulgent.

Actually, I’m not supposed to say “Squib” any more. That word has become, as the muggles say, politically incorrect and demeaning to an oppressed minority. Odd, though—I never thought of myself as oppressed, though I know I’m a minority. Then again, my parents are pretty liberal-minded about that sort of thing, but I guess others aren’t so lucky. The new expression is “Magically Challenged,” which sounds sort of funny to me. Either way, it’s the same thing.

I’m actually not entirely incapable of doing magic. I can do a little, but not nearly enough to let me take the usual wizard classes at my school, Hogwarts. A few years ago, the Headmaster and the Governors agreed to have a bunch of new classes that are geared towards Squibs…uh, that is, the Magically Challenged. In short, it gave me the chance to go to Hogwarts with my older brother, Freddy, and now with my younger siblings.

Anyway, my magic. Sorry, I got off-track a little. I do that sometimes, especially when I’m nervous, which is most of the time. When I was eight years old, Freddy was lobbing tennis balls at me for some reason—older brother stuff, I suppose—so when he threw the fourth one, it actually hit me right on the nose, bounced off and crashed into this really nice vase that Mum brought back from Russia a long time ago. There it was, all in bits on the rug. For a second, I thought Freddy would just fix it—he’s magically gifted. But Freddy just froze. Mum was in the kitchen with our little sister, Lydia, and when she didn’t come rushing out, we figured she didn’t hear the crash.

So then I got the idea of grabbing my Dad’s wand—he hardly ever uses it because he usually doesn’t need a wand to do magic, and there it was, just lying there—and I pointed it at the vase and shouted, “Reparo!” The only reason I know that one is because Mum uses it about a hundred times a day to fix stuff my younger brother, Tom, has broken. To my shock, and to Freddy’s, the bits all jumped together and the vase was fixed. I was so sure that Freddy would run to Mum and tell her that I actually, miraculously did magic, but then again, that would get him into trouble for breaking the vase and for throwing tennis balls at me, and it would also get me in trouble for using Dad’s wand without permission. So we stayed quiet about it.

It’s too bad that I didn’t get to tell anyone, though. Mum and Dad had always sort of figured that I was hopelessly Magically Challenged, no matter how much training or advice they might give me. In a way it’s true, but I always wish I could do more. It’s not that I’m complaining, because I’m not. I have a great life and an amazing family and a Dad who’s like a god to me. But let’s say you were the son of Leonardo daVinci or something, and all you could do was draw stick figures. But you can’t just acquire magical abilities. You’re born with it or without it—unless you’re my Dad, in which case the laws of magic sort of went crazy. But he’s unique.

I suppose I should tell you a little about my family, since I keep mentioning them all. I’m the second of five kids—I’ve got an older brother, Freddy, younger brothers Tom and Will, and a younger sister, Lydia. Will is the youngest—Dad’s joke is that after Will got conceived, Dad wasn’t the only “accidental wizard” in the family. I’ve always had a special bond with my Dad, and not just because I’m Magically Challenged. I know he’s not perfect or anything, but in my eyes, I’ve always seen him as an ideal, a true role model. Dad grew up as a muggle and when he was fifteen, he was in a really bad accident that left him for dead. But then, he got a blood transfusion from two wizards and just like that, he became a wizard, though he didn’t know it right away. They still don’t know how it happened, or why. Cousin Severus says it was an act of the gods that it happened, that my Dad saved wizardkind. That’s when Dad tells him to shut up.

My Mum’s side of the family is pureblooded, and everyone in the family is pretty talented, magic-wise. Grandpa Weasley just retired after a brief tenure as Minister for Magic—it was supposed to be just for six months, after Minister Shaklebolt got sick, but it turned into three years. Finally, they got someone new, a fellow called Avery Rennsaler. My uncle Percy is pretty relieved. He was Chief Undersecretary to the Minister, so when he had to work with his father, it was kind of awkward; Uncle Ron tells me that Uncle Percy and his father haven’t always had a good relationship—no one seems to want to discuss it. Anyway, I can’t blame Uncle Percy. If I had gotten to work with my father for three years, that would be amazing, but strange, too, awkward I suppose. Anyway, the Weasley side of the family is pretty independent, always enterprising. My uncles Fred and George (I’m named after George), own Weasleys Wizard Wheezes International—their products are sold all over the globe, and even in some muggle shops. My uncle Ron heads up the Special Victims Division in the Law Enforcement Department. My uncle Charlie teaches at Durmstrang Academy, and my uncle Bill is Director of Code-Breaking for Gringott’s bank.

My mother is a syndicated columnist—she started out her career reporting on international Quidditch matches, but after she had Freddy, she went to work for _The Portal_ , which is a political and cultural magazine. But her columns got really popular, and pretty soon, other magazines and newspapers wanted to print them. She writes a lot about politics, which makes sense considering half the family is in the Ministry in some capacity or other. Actually, she’s responsible for making “Squib” a bad word. She wrote this long article about discrimination and how people like me get treated like second-class citizens. I worried that she would mention my name, but thankfully, she didn’t.

I worry a lot. I worry that I worry too much, and then I worry about worrying about worrying. Mum says I get that from Grandma Weasley.

I’m not ashamed of being Magically Challenged or anything. It’s not that at all. If anything, my parents taught all of us kids to stand tall and be proud of who we are, regardless of magic. That got me through some tough times when I was first starting at Hogwarts. I was so sure that I would get jinxed and hexed all the time by the witches and wizards in the school once they found out I’m Magically Challenged. Freddy told me he’d take care of it and not to worry. I don’t know exactly what happened, but to this day, as I’m just about to start my fifth year at Hogwarts, not a single witch or wizard has done anything to me—at least not with magic.

Maybe they know that my father could turn them into toadstools just by thinking about it. Who knows? Or maybe they’re just a group of nice kids.

But all this family success and prestige has brought me to a pretty serious place in life. Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, in my family is beyond powerful. My sister, Lydia, is starting at Hogwarts this year—we hope she’ll be in Slytherin with the rest of us—she’s been doing Transfiguration since she was three. Amazing. Even Will can do some pretty amazing stuff, and he’s not even four. Everyone is pretty much set for life in our world. Jobs will come easily to all of my siblings, but for people like me, the Magically Challenged, it’s different.

I’m not stupid. In fact, an IQ test I took when I was nine said that I’m a genius. 165 IQ! Of course, Freddy’s up there, too, and so is Tom. But as far as my world is concerned, I may as well be as ordinary as the next Squib who’ll end up pushing a mop the rest of his adult life. See, I’m not cut out for that sort of thing. It’s not that I’m proud or anything. It’s just that I have…dreams, goals. OK, so I could keep a shop, like my uncles do, and I bet I could start up a pretty awesome corporation, just as they did. But my uncles are seriously clever wizards, really creative blokes who can do all sorts of phenomenal things with the products they invent.

What can I do? That’s what’s been dogging me all these years. But now things have changed, and I think I know what I want. The only problem is breaking it to my parents.

I have no idea what they’ll do.


	2. An Uncertain Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"What are you going to do once you’re out of here?” Theo asked._
> 
>  
> 
> _I knew what I wanted, but I didn’t know what to do about it. It was hard for me to answer Theo’s question without worrying even more._
> 
>  
> 
> _“I don’t know,” I replied, trying to focus all my attention on my treacle tart just then._
> 
>  
> 
> _It was the same old problem, once again nagging at me. What was I going to do once I was done with Hogwarts? A muggle would go to university and then enter a profession, but we don’t have a university. The way our world works is almost medieval, when you think about it._

I had a brief fling with a girl a couple of years ago, towards the end of my second year at Hogwarts. She’s lovely, clever, funny, daring. There was only one problem with Aurora Snape. She’s my cousin. Granted she’s my sixth cousin twenty or thirty times removed or something, but all the same, the thought of it is a bit...gross. OK, in reality it wasn't really a fling. It was just that Aurora and I became really good friends during that time, really close. Freddy liked to take the mickey out of me and suggest something more, but then again, that's what Freddy did to me all the time. I guess a basket-case like me is an easy target. Anyway, these days, Aurora is great friends with Freddy and his best friend, Abraxas Malfoy. Everyone at school calls them the Avengers.

Mum calls them the Devil’s Triplets.

Last year, Aurora and Abraxas started up together, which made a lot of boys at Hogwarts extremely jealous. It’s not just that she’s the Head’s daughter or that she’s the prettiest girl at school, but that she’s the most popular, most outgoing and best prankster the school has known in a very long time. Word has it that my uncles did their share of mischief in their day, but according to the Headmaster, no one so far has matched the Avengers.

What they’re avenging, I’m not so sure. I don’t think they do, either.

Sometimes I get to participate in their mischief, but not always. Freddy tells me that if I get too involved I’ll get sick. Frankly, I think he’s exaggerating. OK, so one time in my first year, I played lookout whilst Freddy and Aurora set up a booby trap outside Gryffindor Tower, to ambush Abraxas outside his own House. I was supposed to let them know when Malfoy was approaching so they could get him. The plot worked beautifully and Abraxas was covered with dungbombs, but in the process, I got so worked up and so nervous that afterward, I had a stomachache for three days. Freddy got scared that somehow Mum and Dad would find out and think he was bullying me, so he started making excuses to keep me from pranking with them.

My best friend at Hogwarts is another Squib…pardon my language…called Theo Scrimgeour, from Ravenclaw. Theo comes from a similar background as mine—his grandfather was Minister for Magic a few years before my grandfather was, back in the days when the dark Lord Voldemort was waging war against the wizarding world. My father and most of my family had a hand in his downfall. Like I said, loads of pressure. Anyway, Theo and I have most of our classes together, so we’ve gotten to know each other really well, though we’re in different houses. I’m usually the one who helps him finish his homework.

Theo started seeing a muggle girl, Kenya Something—I forget her last name—she lives in his town. He’s never told her about the magical world, though.

“Why should I?” he asked one day at lunch. We had just sat a desperately difficult exam in our Maths class. My head still ached.

“Well is it serious?” I asked back. I was curious. Besides my father’s family, I don’t really know any muggles.

“Serious enough.”

“Has she met your family yet?”

“My mum. But Mum kept quiet about being a witch.”

Of course, that’s how it’s supposed to be. We have very strict secrecy laws—it causes way too much trouble when the muggles know about us. Violating them can get someone thrown in Azkaban.

“And if you get really serious with her, won’t you have to tell her?” I asked. “I mean, if you got married or something, she’d have to find out. What if your kids are wizards?”

Theo laughed. “Come on, Chaucer! Lighten up! Besides, I’ll end up in the muggle world, just like the rest of us.”

I frowned at that. “You don’t know that, Theo.”

“Well if you think I’m going to be some waiter at the Leaky Cauldron, then you’ve got another thing coming.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “So you’ve got a plan?”

“I’m going to go to muggle trade school and learn about computers,” Theo declared. He was pretty excited.

I knew a little about computers—Dad has one, and he sometimes lets us use it—but working with them as a career? I wasn’t so sure.

“But you need to take muggle exams, don’t you?” I said. I was pretty sure that the muggles needed some sort of test score or credentials to let someone into their trade schools, even if it wasn’t university.

“Well I haven’t gotten that far, have I?” he said. “I mean, I’ll finish up here first. I’ve got loads of time to figure out how to get in. I’m hoping these maths classes will help me out.”

I sighed and ate a treacle tart. “I hope you’re right.”

“What about you, Chaucer?” Theo asked.

“I don’t have a muggle girlfriend.”

Theo scowled. “No, stupid! I mean what are you going to do once you’re out of here?”

I knew what I wanted, but I didn’t know what to do about it. It was hard for me to answer Theo’s question without worrying even more.

“I don’t know,” I replied, trying to focus all my attention on my treacle tart just then.

It was the same old problem, once again nagging at me. What was I going to do once I was done with Hogwarts? A muggle would go to university and then enter a profession, but we don’t have a university. The way our world works is almost medieval, when you think about it. You enter a trade or a profession and spend some time apprenticing until they trust you enough to promote you. That’s what my Dad did when he became a Healer—there’s no med school or pre-med programs for up-and-coming Healers. You study for three or four years and that’s it. Uncle Ron entered a training programme at the Ministry when he entered Law Enforcement, as did Aunt Hermione when she started in Muggle Relations.

But for the Magically Challenged? What jobs can we hold down in our world? Even Madame Malkin, the seamstress, uses magic in her profession. Even the charwoman at the Leaky Cauldron uses magic. So when Theo mentioned working in the muggle world, it raised some very uncomfortable and difficult questions in my mind.

Forget it. Better to dwell on getting a date for the next Hogsmeade weekend than lamenting about my future.

To that end, I had a couple of options. More than a couple, actually. I should have reveled in being my brother’s brother and taken full advantage of his tremendous popularity. But that old enemy, worry, got me yet again. I don’t understand myself sometimes.

There’s this girl, a witch in Ravenclaw…so beautiful, so…everything. Ellie Grey is her name. She’s got willowy blonde hair, dark brown eyes, a musical voice—the best part is that she liked me. At least, she liked me as a friend, as a fellow scholar, that sort of thing. I didn’t know if she liked me, you know, romantically, but I knew that I’d never find out unless I asked her out.

I knew Ellie well enough from the few classes we had together, but mostly, I knew her through Theo. His news that he had a girlfriend came as a huge relief to me, in fact. For a long time, I thought that he and Ellie sort of fancied each other. Now that she was definitely free gave me courage. That is, I assumed she was free. Another thing to worry about!

So one day in early October, I got up all my courage and decided to ask the Big Question. My stomach was in knots, but I wasn’t going to let that hold me back. I could feel my knees quaking as I stood at the entrance to the Great Hall, just before dinner. It was really crowded that night, more crowded that I had seen it before, as if every single student and teacher in the school decided to show up all at once, just to prevent me from getting Ellie alone. I couldn’t see her anywhere! I briefly despaired.

Where was she? I saw Aurora, Freddy and Abraxas and their huge gang of friends, and I saw Paige Malfoy and Althea Snape giggling their way into the Great Hall with my brother, Tom and some of his friends. I waved at a Squib girl I knew from class, and at a Squib Sixth Year Prefect I was friends with. And then, out of the corner of my eye, just beyond Cousin Severus putting a Second Year Hufflepuff into detention for something, I spotted Ellie—with a boy.

My heart sank. I gave up.

By the time I sat with Theo and some of our friends, dinner was half done and all the best portions were gone. I settled for some lukewarm shepherd’s pie and some cold green beans. I didn’t have much of an appetite after all that waiting and especially after seeing Ellie with that wizard boy.

“You’re in a funk tonight,” Theo noted.

“Stress.”

“You’ve got to stop worrying, mate,” Theo said, sounding very much like Freddy. “You’ll end up in your Dad’s Incurables ward if you keep it up.”

“Tell me about it,” I grumbled.

“She doesn’t like him, you know,” Theo said. He’s sort of psychic like that. It’s creepy sometimes how he can just read my mind like that—and he’s no Legilimens.

“You don’t know that,” I replied bitterly. To be honest, I was sort of reveling in my misery and disappointment and wasn’t in the mood to be disabused of it.

“I know body language, mate, and she’s definitely not into him,” Theo said. “Look at how she’s sitting, with her body leaning away from him, not towards him. He won’t get much from her, I can tell you that. And plus, she keeps looking around the room and not so much at him.”

“Is she looking at me?” I asked hopefully.

Theo shook his head no. Drat.

Here’s the thing about me and girls. Nearly every girl I dated last year was someone I met because she knew Freddy or knew about Freddy. _He’s so cute. He’s so funny. He’s completely crazy. Blah blah blah._ I always have a great time with them, and I’m pretty sure they have fun with me. I took Sandi Bagshott to the Three Broomsticks last April, and on Valentine’s Day last year, I took Larissa Macmillan to Madame Puddifoot’s for tea and some serious snogging. That was quite a date. Larissa and I lasted three entire weeks together, but then we both sort of got busy with other things—in other words, we got bored with each other—and broke up.

If I could pull Ellie on my own, without any influence from Freddy, that would be sweet. All I had to hope for was that Theo was right about her body language with that boy. She and I talked a lot in the corridors, or chatted casually on the Grounds. Sometimes we talked about the difference between her classes and mine—she’s always amazed when I know a lot about her subjects, but I tell her it’s because I live with so many wizards.

The next day, with my spirits renewed, I decided to give it another go and hope Ellie would say yes. I looked for her all morning between lessons, but she was nowhere to be seen—I hoped she wasn’t in some dark corner snogging with that boy—and I didn’t see her at lunch, either. I got nervous. I had a short break between lunch and my literature class but I had to put off my search for Ellie because I needed to revise for an in-class essay. I set my books on a bench just outside the Great Hall and thumbed through my copy of _Twelfth Night_. Interesting read, actually. Malvolio had just found the phony letter and thought his Olivia was in love with him. Stupid man.

“Get to the M.O.A.I. part yet?” Ellie nudged me over and sat down beside me, flipping her silky hair over her shoulder. The ends of it grazed my cheek. I melted inside.

“Serves him right, don’t you think?” I asked. “I mean, Malvolio is such a pig-headed prat.”

“And a snob. And with no right to be a snob,” she said.

This was good. A real conversation. I spoke and she listened. My heart was pounding so hard I thought she might be able to hear it. OK, man, buck up. Do it. Now, before she goes off to class and I lose my nerve. I took a deep breath and strove to steady my voice so she wouldn’t know how nervous I was.

“Say, Ellie, are you planning on going into town next weekend?” I asked, attempting to be casual.

“Oh yes! Althea Snape and I are planning…” But I didn’t hear the rest of what she said. She was going with other people. Granted, it was with a group of girls and not that boy, but still.

What would Freddy do?

I had an idea. “Yeah, Theo and I are going to check out some new stuff at Zonko’s.”

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest?” she wondered jokingly.

“Nah. I go in there and spy for my uncles! I just don’t tell them that I actually buy stuff from there. The Zonko’s collection is a big secret.”

She laughed at that. I amused her! Yes!

“You know, George, we were planning on hanging out at the Three Broomsticks later, maybe about two,” she said.

“We should look for you!” I said brightly. Was _she_ asking _me_ out? Was that possible?

Ellie smiled and sat up straight. Was she leaning a little bit towards me? I think she was. I could sense it somehow, that she was a few millimetres closer to me than before. And she had crossed her legs in my direction. That had to be right. “That would be great, George! I’ll save you a seat!”

I don’t remember the rest of the day. I don’t remember anything that Theo might have said or jokes he told, and I don’t remember what I wrote about on that essay. I hoped I did alright. As Count Orsino said at the opening of _Twelfth Night_ , “If music be the food of love, play on!”

Play on indeed!


	3. The Secret Silver Room and the Blue Potion

The next few days positively crawled! I was so anxious by the Friday before the Hogsmeade trip that I nearly made myself sick all over again. It’s strange, because normally, I’m not so keyed up like this. OK, I mean, I like girls a lot, and I love going out on dates and all. But it was different with Ellie. There was this special feeling I had around her that I hadn’t experienced before with other girls. Maybe it was that I met her on my own, not through Freddy.

All that week, Ellie and I had barely any time to talk. It was as though the gods had suspected us of something naughty and purposely kept us apart. OK, so it wasn’t an official date or anything. My friends and I were meeting her and her friends. A big group of kids, unsupervised--no teachers, no parents, just us. But there were so many opportunities to know her on another level, maybe even to sneak away with her for a few unguarded minutes of sheer bliss.

I hated my teachers all week. I hated everyone, even my brother. I hated everyone who got in the way of my meeting with Ellie. I hated the clock and the books and the homework and the long path to Hogsmeade. I even hated Theo, and I don’t really hate him. But he, like everything else, had become like this huge barrier between me and what—that is, who—I wanted.

Ellie is muggle-born—her father is a banker and her mother works for some charities. I think that’s why I was so drawn to her. As a Squib, it’s hard to find people who understand me and my weird situation. Even my Dad doesn’t fully understand me, and he used to be a muggle. But it’s been twenty-three years since he’s been a muggle, and I’m pretty sure he’s forgotten what it’s like not to have magic at all. Ellie is different, though. I desperately wanted to talk to her about it all, about the confusion and the feelings of being out of place. I was sure she would understand me unlike anyone else. I mean, Theo is no help, even though he’s pureblooded on both sides. OK, so his situation is similar to mine, but not entirely. There are four other Squibs on his mother’s side, and he gets to commiserate with them all the time. And my other Squib friends aren’t so worked up over being Squibs. I guess I’m a freak in more ways than one.

Friday night. Slytherin Common Room. Freddy Chaucer arrives far too later after dinner, and with a hickey on his neck. I sat on the sofa by the fireplace, reading the rest of _Twelfth Night_. He sniggered at my expense.

“Come on, Georgie Porgy,” he said, snatching the book out of my hands and tossing it aside. “You need some fun. I’m sick of watching you sit around and pine over Miss Eleanora Grey all this time when you could be running the corridors raising Cain with me and Abraxas.”

“Get real, Freddy,” I groused, reaching for my book. Freddy kicked it out of the way.

“Don’t be such a brainiac,” he said. “I bet you’ve read that book seven times.”

Actually, it was my eighth read. “Come on, Freddy, give me my book.”

Freddy sat down next to me and draped his arm around my shoulders. “I’ve got a better idea. How about if you and me and Abraxas do a little spelunking?”

“What are you on about? There are no caves around here, big brother.”

Freddy rolled his eyes. “How can someone as clever as you be so dull? I know there aren’t any caves, troll-brain! But there is this special corridor just past the Dungeons that Abraxas swears opens into a forest!”

That sounded strange to me. “Freddy, if we get caught, I won’t get to go to Hogsmeade tomorrow. I don’t want to jeopardise that.”

“You’re not going to get caught,” Freddy said confidently. “You’re with us!”

Was he for real? I scowled. “That’s what worries me.”

Like a big sucker, I ended up going anyway. Freddy had a point, as always. As we snuck like ghosts through the halls of the castle, shadows danced on the walls, teasing us along the way. And when Abraxas finally got us to his chosen spot, we quickly discovered that the corridor to this cave or whatever it held was long and narrow and very dark. I never knew it existed before, but Freddy and Abraxas seemed to know exactly where they were going.

“Say, where’s Aurora tonight?” I asked. “Your partner in crime?”

“This is strictly boys’ night out, old man,” Abraxas said. As always, he was four steps ahead of us, with me second and Freddy behind. Abraxas kept slapping the cold stone wall as he went, enjoying the sound it made.

“So where does this corridor end up?” I asked,

“Don’t know,” Freddy said.

“We never got to the end,” Abraxas called, now six steps ahead of us. “Last time, we stopped in that funny silver room I had discovered a while back and we got so distracted that we never went on.”

Silver room? Was this a joke? Was I the object of a prank by the Avengers? Maybe Aurora was waiting just a few yards ahead of us, with a pile of dungbombs ready to launch against me. I really hate dungbombs. I could imagine still smelling like them and then going to meet up with Ellie. Awful thought.

We turned a corner and, to my surprise, there really was a silver room. By then, I had no idea where we were in the castle or how far down underground we might be. Were we under the lake? Beyond it? Under the forest? It was nearly impossible to know. But I was too overwhelmed by this silver room! It was amazing! Huge! Silver! The walls didn’t just have silver bits in them—they were solid silver, or at least they felt that way.

“How did you find this place?” I asked, stunned.

“Aurora and I found it two weeks ago,” Abraxas said. “We needed a better place to…well, you know…hide away, and we went on this really long walk and ended up here.”

Freddy laughed. “It’s kind of bright for a snog, don’t you think? I’m more a fan of the candlelit room. Georgie here likes to snog in public, apparently!”

I blushed. “Oh come on! The ONE time I go to Madame Puddifoot’s…”

Freddy clapped me on the shoulder and laughed again. “I should take lessons from you, little bro. You always get the sweet, pretty ones. I end up with the sarcastic show-offs.”

“That’s because they’re trying to impress you,” I replied. 

It was true. Girls always acted differently around Freddy. They sat a little taller, stuck out their chests a little more, laughed a lot louder. It was really funny, actually. Around me, girls just talk and act normal. I don’t know if that means I make them feel comfortable or if they’re just not interested in showing off to me.

Abraxas pulled out a bottle from his robes. Freddy pulled out three glasses. Were we going to sit around in a silver room and get drunk? I wasn’t so sure about that. But then I thought about what Theo always said to me: “Lighten up!” I could practically feel him kick my backside. I actually flinched.

I took the glass from Freddy’s hand after Abraxas filled it with a blue fluid I’d never seen before. It smelled a little like licorice. I crinkled my nose at it. It reminded me of one of my Dad’s strange potions.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Just drink,” Freddy said. “Then we’ll tell you. Don’t worry, George. It’s not anything bad. I’m not interested in getting punished with one of Dad’s sticking charms or Severus’ detentions.”

He and Abraxas downed their glasses and waited for me. I’ve never been a huge drinker in my life. Granted, I’m only fifteen, but I know plenty of kids my age who start dabbling in alcohol. I’ve been drunk exactly twice in my life, and the second time, my mother found out. It was not a pretty sight.

I took a deep breath and drank down the contents of the glass, not sure what I would feel. The taste was fascinating. First I tasted a light lemon flavour, and then berries, and then plums…I think. I had a suspicion, however, that this was no fruity beverage, though. At first, I felt nothing, but after a few very short moments, something wasn’t quite the same.

It started with Freddy, when he started laughing and couldn’t stop. Abraxas started in, and pretty soon all three of us were screeching and howling without knowing why. We weren’t high or drunk or anything. We were just a bunch of giddy boys in a silver room, drinking funny blue fluid and laughing our arses off. Abraxas had to sit against the wall so he wouldn’t fall completely over. We sat next to him, still laughing hysterically.

“What the heck is this stuff?” I asked, finally able to speak.

“Uncle Fred sent it to me the other day,” Freddy said. “Just a few ounces and you’re shrieking like a girl!”

We all dissolved into another fit of the giggles.

“Oh my gods!” I exclaimed. “This is great! I needed a good laugh.”

“I know, George,” Freddy said, grinning at me. “That’s why we brought you out here, man!”

“Well thanks,” I replied, laughing again.

Abraxas nudged my foot with his. “So, I saw you and Ellie Grey the other day.” He made loud kissing noises, which made all of us laugh.

“She’s cute!” Freddy said enthusiastically. “Ravenclaw, right?”

“And muggle-born,” I said.

“You got a plan?” Abraxas asked. He seemed ready to offer me a plan if I didn’t have one.

I didn’t.

“You’ve got to have a plan,” Freddy said. “A little smooth talk, some holding hands, and then you try to get her alone.”

“I know what to do, Freddy,” I replied sharply. “I have dated before. But this is sort of different, I mean, it’s not exactly a date.” I explained our meet-up to them.

Freddy smirked. “You can turn it into a date.”

“Sure!” Abraxas said. “That’s why you need a plan!”

All this talk of plans and schemes suddenly weighed on me. Was Ellie expecting something of me? If I didn’t make the first move, would she be disappointed? But if I did make the first move, would she think I’m an octopus? I frowned. So did Freddy.

Abraxas poured out another glass and handed it to me. “We’re going to need to have him drink this potion all night, Freddy!”

* * * * *

Saturday morning I almost didn’t get up on time. If it hadn’t been for Tom bellowing at me to get up or I’d be late that I jumped out of bed, got a quick shower and got ready for our big excursion to Hogsmeade. I was still tired from getting in so late, but that wasn’t going to get in my way. I downed my bacon and eggs and pumpkin juice and ran outside to find Theo and our friends, Aidan and Nick Jessup, twin Squibs from Hufflepuff. Their sister, June, another Squib, was in Slytherin with me. Unlike my uncles, who I still can’t always tell apart, Aidan and Nick are a little distinguishable. Nick is left-handed, whereas Aidan is right-handed. Nick has a mole on his right cheek, and Aidan has one on his left cheek. It’s not much of a difference, but it helps. I knew a wizard who could make his mole move about on his face. Thank the gods that Aidan and Nick are Magically Challenged.

“June ratted you out, you know,” Nick said to me, elbowing me in the ribs.

“Not to…”

“Just to us. She said you were out prowling about last night,” Aidan said.

“Hey!” Theo exclaimed, sounding a bit offended. “You didn’t invite us!”

“It wasn’t my invitation,” I explained. “My brother and Abraxas Malfoy took me out.”

“Got you drunk, no doubt,” Nick said.

“No! It wasn’t like that. We found a silver room, actually.” I wasn’t sure if I should have revealed that little secret. Was that sort of sacred territory for Freddy and Abraxas? Would a curious Nick and Aidan come upon Abraxas and the Head’s daughter _in delicto flagrante_? That could be an uncomfortable scene.

“Cool!” Aidan said. “So when are you taking us?”

“I don’t really remember how we got there,” I confessed. That was part true, part lie. I had a vague idea of where that corridor was, but wasn’t sure I wanted to pass on that information to the Jessups. Is that selfish?

We spent most of our time on the path towards Hogsmeade telling crude jokes and telling stories that only fifteen year-old boys find remotely hilarious. My brother and his friends might have been the Avengers, but we were the Super Squibs, ready and able to not use magic even in the most dire situations. We had a lot of fun together.

I admit that whenever I enter Zonko’s joke shop, I feel like a bit of a traitor. Plus, the proprietors know who I am. I look exactly like my famous father, who’s married to the sister of their archrivals in the joke shop industry. That doesn’t stop them from selling their products to me, in spite of who I am. I really am a spy for my uncles. One day, I bought this box with a sunflower on it. Inside is this powder which, when you toss it in someone’s hair, their entire head sprouts flowers. They fall off after about ten minutes, though, which I discovered when I did it to Aidan.

So when I told my uncles about it, they invented a Field in a Box—the box has a sunflower on it, and when you open it, it contains an entire field of sunflowers, complete with a real sun and fluffy white clouds. You can’t step inside, but you can reach in and pull out some flowers. It’s a very cool gift to give a girl you want to impress. Maybe I should get one for Ellie, that is, if our meeting turns out OK. I hope it does.


	4. A Date with Ellie Grey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I turned to discover the welcome sight of Althea Snape and Ellie approaching fast behind us, giggling and chatting animatedly. I smiled and waved. Ellie waved back. Althea didn’t, that is, until she caught sight of Aidan. It made me wonder if her father would allow her to date a Squib. Cousin Severus has his moments of liberal-mindedness, but in a lot of ways, he’s pretty traditional. But that didn’t matter to me just then. I was more engrossed in the sight of a slightly wind-blown, pink-cheeked Ellie, who kept pushing wisps of her blonde hair out of her eyes._
> 
> _“Hey you two,” I said. “What brings you to this creepy place?”_
> 
> _“Curiosity,” Ellie replied coolly. “Plus, we’re stalking you.”_

Hogsmeade is like a fantasyland—at least some of it is. Even the Magically Challenged can have a good time at Zonko’s or Honeydukes. You don’t need magic to enjoy Fizzing Whizbees or Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum. Sometime it’s the small pleasures that are the best ones. My usual haul includes Chocoballs, Droobles, Fudge Flies, Ice Mice and Pepper Imps—those are the best ones! I used to eat tons of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans, until I got one that tasted like rotten fish.

Dad told me about his first visit to Honeyduke’s—all he had were British pounds because he didn’t know he was in a wizard town. The proprietor really gave him a hard time about it! Even still, he came away with some pretty good stuff to show the muggles. Dad still likes Sugar Quills—Freddy usually gives him a boxful at Christmas time.

Loaded down with sweets, my friends and I made our way to Zonko’s, to check out the newest shipments of Fanged Frisbees in all the new designer colours. Not that impressive. Then we headed over to FaST, the new sport shop in Hogsmeade. Ever since Steven Wolfe brought his muggle skateboard to school three years ago, it’s become a huge craze all over Hogwarts. Even purebloods wanted to skate, and most of them had never even heard of a skateboard before. Hogsmeade responded to the hype with the new store, which opened up last spring, just as the snow melted. They sell all sorts of skateboards, plus bikes and rollerblades, too.

Naturally, wizards won’t be satisfied with the usual muggle stuff. Thus, the boards at FaST have different characteristics. One of them sends purple and yellow sparks out of the wheels the faster you go. Tom has that one. Aidan has one sends out lines of smoke in rainbow colours—that one is really cool. There’s a boy in Hufflepuff who has one that’s charmed to fly a low heights. That one is really expensive, and the Ministry made a rule that only the Magically Able could use them, fearing that people like me lack the ablity to stop the inevitable freefall from the skateboard. I suppose they have a point.

It was far from two o’clock, but the four of us were ready to have some lunch. I was tempted to go to Madame Puddifoot’s for some cucumber sandwiches and tea, but I rethought that. Been seen in a lover’s nest with three other guys was probably not a good plan. If my Dad were around, he’d conjure up something. I have to admit, however, that it probably wouldn’t taste too good—he’s a hero and a genius, but he’s a lousy cook. I dug into my bag of Chocoballs and popped a few.

We spent the early part of the afternoon checking out the Shrieking Shack. I never believed all that stuff about it being haunted, though Aidan and Nick swore they had seen spirits and ghouls there on at least one occasion, when we were Third Years. No matter what I said, they held onto that belief.

“Why do you always want to go there if it’s so haunted?” I asked as the four of us trudged up the path towards the Shack.

“I still need to confirm what I saw two years ago,” Nick said resolutely.

“You mean that shadow?” I joked.

Nick scowled at me. “No, smartass! I know what I saw, no matter what you say!”

Fine. Have it your way. I was over it.

Our steps slowed the closer we got to the Shack as our eagerness to explore was overtaken by a natural fear. It didn’t help that the door was hanging off its hinges and creaking menacingly as we neared the place. And then a miracle happened.

Girls’ voices.

I turned to discover the welcome sight of Althea Snape and Ellie approaching fast behind us, giggling and chatting animatedly. I smiled and waved. Ellie waved back. Althea didn’t, that is, until she caught sight of Aidan. It made me wonder if her father would allow her to date a Squib. Cousin Severus has his moments of liberal-mindedness, but in a lot of ways, he’s pretty traditional. But that didn’t matter to me just then. I was more engrossed in the sight of a slightly wind-blown, pink-cheeked Ellie, who kept pushing wisps of her blonde hair out of her eyes.

“Hey you two,” I said. “What brings you to this creepy place?”

“Curiosity,” Ellie replied coolly. “Plus, we’re stalking you.”

I laughed. Althea didn’t. Frankly, Althea is a lot like her father, from her long, black hair to her moody attitude. I had to be sure not to let on that my stomach was doing backflips just then and that my hands were getting clammier by the second. I wished I had worn gloves.

“Come on!” Aidan shouted at us. “Let’s go in!”

I decided to be bold, daring. I turned to Ellie.

“Do you really want to go in there?” I asked.

Ellie shot a quick glance at Althea. “Say, you want to go ahead in with Aidan?” she asked her.

“Do you want to, Althea?” Theo asked. He knew my mind, bless him.

Althea looked longingly at Aidan and smiled. “Sure. Is that okay, Ells?”

Ellie looked briefly at me. “We’ll see you later then, right? Three Broomsticks at three?”

This was an unbelievable development! I was going to be alone with Ellie, away from school, unsupervised—and it was her idea! Incredible! As we walked back towards the path, I thought seriously about how close to her I should be. I figured close enough where our hands might graze each other lightly, but not so close that we’d be hanging all over each other. To my delight, I could feel her warmth near me, and I could just make out the light scent of gardenias as the autumn breeze danced in her hair.

“Not a fan of the Shrieking Shack?” she asked jokingly.

“I think it’s bloody tosh.”

“So do I.”

“Say, do you want a Pepper Imp?” I asked, taking out my bag from Honeyduke’s.

Ellie laughed. “No. I’d rather not breathe fire today. Maybe during History of Magic, just to make the class slightly more interesting.”

“Yeah, even Binns might notice it!” I replied. So far, things were going well, though I rebuked myself for offering her a Pepper Imp. I should have offered her a Chocoball or some Ice Mice. But never mind. My brain raced to find another trivial topic to talk about. Quidditch scores? _Twelfth Night_? Skateboards? But then, Ellie trumped me with something that took me by complete surprise.

“Can I ask you a bold question?” she asked.

“Er…yeah, sure.” I couldn’t imagine what it was. I hoped it wasn’t that she wanted a date with Freddy. I didn’t think I could take that.

Ellie seemed nervous all of a sudden, nearly as nervous as I was. “It’s just that if I don’t ask this right now I might never ask it, and then it would never know and neither would you and…”

What was she on about? “Ask me whatever you want, Ellie. My life’s an open book.”

“It’s just that I…well…are you…seeing…anyone?”

What??? OK, that really shocked me. I was the one who was supposed to be asking that question of her. I was primed and ready! “Uh, well, no. Are you?”

“No. I mean…I was, sort of. But that was a while ago, last term.” She paused. “It’s just that I really like you, George…I mean, I really like talking to you and…well maybe we could…”

“See each other…well, I mean…go out sometime?” I didn’t mean to interrupt her, but I was so overjoyed that I couldn’t help myself.

“Are you…”

“Yeah! I mean, yeah, that would be great!” Should I tell her this was my dream? No, that would be too much for our first day.

Ellie smiled. “So you don’t mind that I’m a witch or anything?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know why I should. After all, my own mum is a witch.” We laughed.

But I knew what she meant, in a way. Was it fair for a Squib and a witch to date or even to marry? Would she feel guilty because I can’t do magic? Would I feel jealous because she can? Those were deep psychological and philosophical questions that would have to be set aside for the present moment. I was far more interested in taking Ellie’s hand in mine and taking a casual stroll together, just talking and thinking.

What a beautiful day.

* * * * *

“Geez, Freddy, stop!”

Freddy let go of me and stepped back, laughing so hard he nearly fell over. He’d spotted me in town with Ellie, holding hands and nuzzling and having intimate talk together, so when we returned to Slytherin house that evening after dinner, Freddy grabbed me in a huge bear hug that was so tight I could barely breathe.

“So go on, little bro, tell us all the dirty details!” Freddy crowed.

Generally speaking Freddy and I get along really well, though our personalities and interests are vastly different. As wild and rough as he can be sometimes, he’s also remarkably protective of me and incredibly respectful, though he does like to take the mickey out of me when I’m dating someone new. Under normal circumstances, I would have told him almost everything, possibly with an embellishment here and there. Guys do that. But I didn’t want to share everything I felt about Ellie. OK, so Freddy could probably figure it out anyway, at least in terms of raging male hormones, but I knew that Ellie meant more to me than just that. It was partly hormones—OK, a lot of it was hormones—but a lot of it wasn’t. I can’t really put words to it.

“There’s nothing dirty to tell,” I replied snidely.

“So you were a complete gentleman?” Freddy asked. “You’re way too much like Dad, George.”

I straightened my spine. “Thanks!”

“Well if you’re not going to dish the details, are you at least going to see her again?”

“Yeah. We decided…well actually it was her idea, but it was mine, too…” I rolled my eyes when Freddy laughed again. “We want to get to know each other more.”

“You mean be a couple, right?”

“No, we’re getting married,” I sniped.

“You wish.”

“What do you think of her, Freddy?” I asked. It suddenly seemed important that I got his opinion on the whole situation.

“She’s too good for you, George!” Freddy smirked, but I didn’t. “I’m kidding. Actually, you might be too good for her.”

“That’s ridiculous. I mean, Ellie’s just about perfect!”

“Nobody is perfect, George. Not even Ellie. Not even Dad. You put people up on pedestals too much. It’s not good. You’ve got to be able to see their faults as well as their good qualities. You’re setting yourself up for a big disappointment if you keep doing that.”

He had a point, but I felt like I needed to defend myself. “I do see them!” I protested. To be honest, I only sort of saw them.

“OK, George,” Freddy said. “Tell me a fault of Dad’s.”

“He’s a bad cook.”

“Well we all know that one!” Freddy replied. “That’s not enough. Another.”

Another? But what could I say? I didn’t want to betray my own father by pointing out every character flaw he has. “Come on, Freddy, give it a rest.”

“Not until you tell me a flaw of Dad’s. A real one.”

“He doesn’t have much of a sense of humour,” I admitted. It was true. He was pretty intense.

“Oh, like you?” Freddy said.

“Shut up. I have a sense of humour.”

“Well if you’re going to start dating a classy witch like Ellie, you’d better,” Freddy warned me sarcastically.

Why did he say _witch_ and not _girl_? All my insecurities bubbled up again, threatening to drown me. Did we really know what we were getting into when we were so different? Would Ellie feel superior to me because I’m Magically Challenged? Most witches and wizards did, except for members of my family, of course. But there were times when even my own parents, and definitely my older brother would sort of swoop down to protect me or get me to some place of safety and acceptance—they never did that with my other siblings. They never had to. Would Ellie do the same? Would she stand between me and the Magically Able? Would she become more guardian than girlfriend? I didn’t want that. I wanted to be treated normally, regarded as an equal.

Why did she want to date me? Was it to make some statement? Did she lose a bet? What was she trying to prove? Or was I just getting paranoid? Was I sabotaging my own happiness because I can’t admit to myself that I’ve got this huge chip on my shoulder? But it’s no one’s fault that I am what I am. I’m sure that Mum and Dad fully expected me to be a wizard. When they found out I wasn’t, they must have been disappointed. I’ve never actually asked them that question—I’m too afraid of the answer. Plus, I don’t want them to lie.

Freddy gave me another huge hug, not so tight this time. “I’m really happy for you, kid,” he said. “Just don’t screw it up, okay? Ellie’s good people.”

I laughed.

* * * * *

As Fifth Years, we’re given an opportunity to learn more about career opportunities that were available to us after we left Hogwarts. Most of the brochures are geared towards witches and wizards. My heart ached when I saw the one for becoming a Healer. My Dad’s picture is on the inside of the brochure, standing rather soberly in his Healer robes looking as professional as possible. For as long as I can remember, I wanted to do absolutely everything my Dad did—more than anything, I always wanted to be a Healer. I had never considered anything else for myself. And one day, my Dad broke my heart.

I was nine years old, and I had come to a serious decision about myself and my life, and I stood ready to announce my big plan to my Dad. He and I had gone to the park to chuck the Fanged Frisbee about—Freddy was at Malfoy Manor that day and Mum had my younger siblings with her, so it was just me and Dad.

“Daddy!” I announced as proudly as a nine year-old boy could, “I’m going to be a Healer just like you!”

I expected him to sweep me into his arms and clap me on the back and say, “well done, boy.” But he didn’t. Instead, his face fell, and for a brief moment, he hung his head. I sensed disapproval, which made no sense to me. After all, it was a noble profession, HIS profession. Did he think I wasn’t clever enough? Dad sat down on the grass and called me over to sit with him.

“George,” he said gravely, “we have to have a serious talk.”

And then he told me. A Healer had to be able to do magic. There was no way around it—it was the nature of the profession. As I listened to his pained explanation, my blood ran cold. I felt numb, paralysed, stunned. This was not happening to me! I wanted to be a Healer! That’s all I ever wanted! But I was barred from it because of what I am. It seemed so unfair, so cruel. Soon the tears came in floods down my face and neck. I buried my face in my father’s sweater and sobbed pitifully—he held me close and let me cry awhile. It was the first moment of truth for me, that in spite of being loved and cherished by my family and friends, I was still a Squib, and that would never change. There would be no chance for me to fulfill my dream. I would have to do something else, something that didn’t require magic.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” Dad said. So was I.

I tried to swallow the bitterness I felt, desperate to rid myself of it. I pretended to be perfectly content with my life and with who I was. No magic? No problem, right? Who was I kidding?

As I glanced through all those brochures, the reality of my situation became even more apparent, more ugly and unchangeable. Unlike the Demagus potion my Dad invented, which strips a wizard of his powers, there was no Promagus potion to give a Squib powers. But wait. I was supposed to be proud of myself, no matter what I was. I was not supposed to care about magic or no magic. Regardless of magic, I was supposed to be someone special, someone of value. That’s how I was raised to regard myself and that’s how I do regard myself…on most days.

But I’m older now, not a little boy any more. I can’t just run to my parents for every single problem any more—besides, they can’t solve my biggest problem. No one can. I’ll just have to find a way, somehow, if I’m brave enough.


	5. Freddy's Bombshell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Hey, I’ve got something I’m going to tell Dad and Mum, about next year!”_
> 
> _“Oh yeah? Going on the Grand Tour or something?” I joked._
> 
> _“I wish. We can’t all be rolling in Galleons like Abraxas Malfoy. But for those of us who have to work for a living, I’ve come to a big decision. Dad’s going to love it!”_
> 
> _I was excited to hear what he had to say. “That’s great! So, what’s it going to be? Minister for Magic?”_
> 
> _“Not yet,” Freddy replied. “I’ve been thinking this over and I wasn’t sure if I could do this because of my Potions grades earlier this term, but then Professor Snape thought I should and so did Flitwick because I improved so much.”_
> 
> _“What is it, man?” Theo asked. “Tell us before George explodes!”_

I was in love. Truly, madly, deeply in love. Or at least in lust. Ellie was like my perfect fit, a soulmate of sorts. I know how that sounds, I mean, I’m only fifteen. But sometimes you just know things. I think my Dad knew he had found his true love when he first met my mum, even though they didn’t get together for a couple of years. I just knew. How could it be otherwise? We liked so many of the same things, had so many of the same interests. What did it matter that she’s a witch and I’m Magically Challenged? We loved each other, and that was all that mattered. All I was interested in seeing was sweetness and light, nothing else—certainly not controversy, conflict or complication.

From what I could see, Ellie was beyond such distinctions. At least I wanted to think she was. I was pretty sure she was, I mean, why would she want to be my girlfriend? She knew exactly what I was, what I am. Everyone at Hogwarts knew who the Squibs were. We were sort of ring-fenced in a way—that was probably because hexing a Squib could get a student suspended, even expelled, if it was a bad enough hex. But Ellie saw through all that to the real me.

The next month sailed by blithely. Classes, snogs, many visits to the Silver Room with Ellie, and way too much homework. My Maths professor was in love with giving us scads of impossible equations to solve. I liked my philosophy homework, for the most part, but there were days when there was only so much Thomas Hobbes I could handle. Tough reading, not to mention a bit depressing! Ellie was in my Literature class as well as in Herbology and History of Magic, so we had a fair amount of class time to sit together and hold hands under the desks. That was fun.

Outside of class, life went on as usual, which was just fine with me. As the weather turned cold and rainy, and then snowy, we all had great fun having snowball fights, sledding, making snow angels. Tom charmed his skateboard so that it was sort of like a jet-powered snowboard. Neither Freddy nor I wanted to tell our parents just how fast Tom could go on that thing, nor did we want to tell them how many close calls Tom had, barely missing the trees. 

“He’ll be sorry when he breaks all his teeth in some crash,” Freddy said.

“Yeah, if he survives,” I pointed out grimly.

For Freddy, Abraxas and Aurora, this was their last Christmastime at Hogwarts, and they were getting fairly nostalgic, knowing that they’d all be busy with life in a year’s time. Well, Abraxas wouldn’t but the others would. They spent a lot of time talking about their days as First Years, when Aurora had taken them on a secret tour of the castle and showed them all the places she assumed her father didn’t know about. They laughed over their naivete and about how often they’d gotten in trouble with the Headmaster.

“I think I’ve done over two-hundred hours of detentions at this school,” Abraxas said.

I laughed. “That’s all?”

“That’s two hundred more than you’ll ever do, George,” Abraxas shot back.

“So what? Since when is it a badge of honour to spend half your life in detention?” I retorted. I knew I was a major goody-goody, and I wasn’t the most adventurous person in the world. But why stir up trouble? There were enough problems in the world without people running about causing trouble just because. Freddy thinks I’m a big pill.

Heck with him.

But then, quite suddenly and rather violently, my clean record became a thing of the past.

I have no words to express it.

By the end of first term, Freddy was all excitement—who could blame him? While I was just starting to consider possible careers and weighing my rather limited options, Freddy was all prepared to jump into whatever he wanted. For weeks, Freddy had been pretty tight-lipped about what he wanted for himself, though I know he was looking pretty seriously at a lot of different paths. I hoped he’d enter the political arena in some capacity or perhaps become a wizard attorney, like Dad’s friend, Tom McDowell. Freddy’s one of those guys who’s personable, attractive, clever, and really bloody diplomatic. He’s great at getting his way without anyone realising they’re being manipulated.

So I wasn’t expecting the bombshell he dropped on me the night before we left for home, just before the Christmas holiday. I am ashamed of the way I behaved.

Everything started off so calm, so normal. I was sitting at the Hufflepuff table with Aidan, Althea, Nick and Theo. Ellie was already gone—I’m glad she didn’t witness my behaviour that night, because she might have broken up with me on the spot. Freddy plopped down next to me and gave me a big nudge. He grinned wickedly.

“Ready for the off?” he asked.

“All packed and sorted out!” I replied brightly.

“Hey, I’ve got something I’m going to tell Dad and Mum, about next year!”

“Oh yeah? Going on the Grand Tour or something?” I joked.

“I wish. We can’t all be rolling in Galleons like Abraxas Malfoy. But for those of us who have to work for a living, I’ve come to a big decision. Dad’s going to love it!”

I was excited to hear what he had to say. “That’s great! So, what’s it going to be? Minister for Magic?”

“Not yet,” Freddy replied. “I’ve been thinking this over and I wasn’t sure if I could do this because of my Potions grades earlier this term, but then Professor Snape thought I should and so did Flitwick because I improved so much.”

“What is it, man?” Theo asked. “Tell us before George explodes!”

“I’m going to be a Healer. I want to talk to Dad and have him take me on a tour of St. Mungo’s, so I can see it for real, not just as a tourist, and I want to talk to some of Dad’s coworkers and…” But Freddy paused.

I had gone numb. I suddenly couldn’t breathe, and I felt all the colour drain from my face. Freddy looked worried and frightened.

“George? You okay?” he asked. I was almost hyperventilating.

All I could think was _how could he? This was MY dream! He had never talked about being a Healer before! How could he?_

“George?”

“How could you?” I whispered. I was out of my mind with grief and jealousy and anguish and self-hatred.

“What?” Freddy looked confused.

I couldn’t speak for a horribly uncomfortable moment. “You…stole my dream from me!” I murmured, too humiliated to speak any louder.

“What are you talking about?” Freddy asked, even more confused.

I couldn’t take it. It was so unfair. I had wanted to be a Healer all my life! It was the only thing I had ever really wanted. I was so ready for it! Everything that interested me academically had to do in some way with being a Healer, even though I knew it was impossible for me to become one. I know it’s awful, how I acted, but I was quickly losing control. I fought back a powerful sob as I pictured Freddy with my Dad, casually touring St. Mungo’s, Freddy going through MY Healer training, Freddy treating MY patients!

“You stole…my…DREAM!” I shouted in total anguish. I burst into bitter tears, not caring how I looked all of a sudden, not caring that there were scores of curious, mortified eyes staring at the scene. All I could do was heave and shudder and moan.

Freddy glared at me. “Well thanks a bloody lot, George!” he snapped. I could tell he was hurt by my reaction. “Here I thought you might be happy for me because I finally made a decision, and instead, you’re acting like a stupid…”

“A stupid what?” I seethed. “A stupid Squib?”

Everyone at the table gasped. So did Freddy.

“That’s not what I was going to say! I don’t use that word! You’re being an idiot, George!”

Indignant, I stood up, ready to stomp off to my room, but Freddy stopped me. It happened so quickly, I barely know how it all went down. All I know is that Freddy grabbed my arm and I jerked away and made my way towards the door. Freddy grabbed my by the shoulder, or at least he tried, and for some reason I don’t understand, I swung around, fists clenched, and I punched Freddy right in the eye. I may be Magically Challenged, but I’m no weakling. I’m just as tall as Freddy and just as strong.

Freddy tried to restrain me, though he made a conscious decision not to use magic. He reached for my arms to try and pin me down, but I was too quick for him, and I punched him again, this time on the shoulder, then on the nose. I’m pretty sure I broke it, because suddenly he had blood running down his chin, spotting his robes.

“Stop it, George!” Freddy shouted.

Several people rushed to the rescue, including Theo, Aidan, Abraxas—and Cousin Severus. For an old guy, he’s pretty strong, and was able to pin my flailing arms behind me to stop the attack. I was shouting and sobbing and kicking and swearing like I had never done before. I can’t imagine what my Dad would do if he had seen me. It was like I was possessed or something, taken over by an unwelcome spirit. Freddy tried to staunch the flow of blood down his face and also tried to get Cousin Severus to loosen his grip on me, but he refused.

I was in big trouble. Huge trouble. This wasn’t just a dungbomb attack or sassing a teacher. I had used violence against another student, against my own brother. By the time the four of them had wrestled me to the Head’s office, I was nearly hysterical, filled with anger and fear and shame and grief.

“Let’s get him into this settee,” Cousin Severus said to Freddy. “You three can go,” he said to Theo, Aidan and Abraxas. Then, he pointed his wand to me and whispered something that sounded almost like a little song. A soft pink light soon engulfed me, calming me down almost instantaneously. I supposed it was the Head’s prerogative to use magic on a Squib if he wanted, especially one that was out of control.

I took a deep breath and dried my eyes with the sleeve of my robes. I was shaking all over, and I even felt a little dizzy. Cousin Severus sat next to me, frowning. I couldn’t bear to look at him. Freddy stood by the desk, still wiping blood from his nose and chin. I guess I hit him harder than I thought.

“You will tell me exactly what happened,” Cousin Severus said sharply.

I shook my head. “I can’t,” I whispered. Tears poured down my face, but I couldn’t move to wipe them away.

“It was my fault, Severus,” Freddy started.

“At this school you will address me as Headmaster,” he snapped.

“Sorry, sir,” Freddy said. “It’s just that I said something that set him off, that’s all.”

Cousin Severus…that is, Professor Snape didn’t looked very convinced. “Unless he threatened to murder you in your bed, Chaucer, I hardly think that whatever you said warranted the use of violence.”

Freddy glanced over at me sympathetically, pathetically. I was still shaking.

“It’s between us, sir,” he said. “Brother stuff.”

Professor Snape glared at us both. “That may be, however, you still used violence against another student, Chaucer,” he said to me darkly. “Upon your return you will have ten hours of detention, with me. And I will also speak to your parents about this _Brother Stuff_.”

What could I do but nod obediently? I had behaved monstrously, completely out of character. Whilst I sat there struggling to get control of my flood of emotions, Professor Snape fixed Freddy’s nose and the growing bruise on his left eye. I was grateful. My parents would have flipped out if Freddy had shown up with his face beat-up, by his Squib brother. Snape excused Freddy to return to Slytherin to finish his packing and to go to bed. I was now alone with him.

I know that my father and Cousin Severus have a very close relationship, since Dad was sixteen. They’ve had their share of ups and down, Dad tells me, but they also have an incredibly intimate bond with each other. As for me, I don’t quite get it. I’ve known Cousin Severus all my life, but I never really got on with him, though he was the one responsible for letting the Magically Challenged attend Hogwarts at all. Maybe it’s a personality thing—Cousin Severus is cranky most days, though Althea swears he’s a big softy. I’m not so sure. Either way, being alone in his office was the last place I wanted to be, especially after I had just attacked Freddy in front of the whole school.

“We need to talk,” he said, moving to the cabinet behind his massive desk. He pulled out two glasses and poured out some amber fluid into them. I hoped it wasn’t another strange potion. “Here,” he said, handing a glass to me.

“What is it?” It smelled like liquor.

“Cognac. Very smooth, but sip it slowly. It takes a bit of getting used to.”

He was right. The first sip I took was too big, and it made me cough. He rolled his eyes and sipped. I worried that my father might find out Cousin Severus was giving me alcohol, but I drank it anyway. I was too afraid of him not to drink.

“I am shocked and disappointed in you, Chaucer,” he stated gravely. “I never would have expected such behaviour from someone like you. Your younger brother, yes, but not you. Explain yourself.”

I couldn’t. It was too painful, too embarrassing. “Sir, I…I can’t.” A new sob welled up, but I held it back for the moment.

“You will tell me exactly why you attacked your own brother,” he demanded. “How did he set you off?”

“He…he didn’t really, I mean, not on purpose,” I replied. I took another sip, much smaller this time. That one was better. I could feel the colour coming back into my cheeks and my nose. “It’s my fault, sir, really. I was being immature.”

“Well that’s obvious,” he said silkily. “About what were you being immature?”

I sighed and explained the whole story to him gravely, soberly. He listened carefully, measuring each word as I went along. As I finished, he nodded and poured himself more cognac.

“You must talk to your father about this,” he said.

What? Was he crazy? Confess that I beat up my own brother because I was jealous? “I can’t! I can’t do that to him, sir!”

He frowned. “Your father has a great many gifts, George, which I am sure you know. One of those is compassion.”

“I’m not some charity case!” I snapped, more harshly than I intended.

“Did I say you were?” he asked. I thought he was going to tell me off, but he didn’t. “You are, however, in a unique and difficult position in our world, and your father will be able to give you both support and guidance. You are in desperate need of both.”

He was right, of course. Cousin Severus usually was, in spite of being rather unpleasant most of the time. I couldn’t understand why he was being nice to me in this instance when he should be eviscerating me.

“I don’t know if I can, though,” I said.

“If you can stop wallowing in self-pity, then you can talk to him.”

I hate it when he does that! Why is he so sure I’m wallowing in self-pity? What did he say “wallow”? Who did he think he was? Who am I kidding?

“I shall give you a week, and then when I pay your family a visit after Christmas, I shall ask your father about it specifically.”

What else could I do at that point? Better to hear it from me than from the acerbic tongue of Cousin Severus. At least Dad would give me a good pep talk—I hope he wouldn’t hate me for what I did to Freddy. I hoped Freddy wouldn’t hate me.

After I shed a few more tears and finished my glass of cognac and had a second, I returned to Slytherin, hoping that Freddy was already asleep. He wasn’t. In fact, he was in the Common Room, waiting for me.

“So did he give you a thrashing?” he asked as I came inside.

I sat down next to him on the sofa and shook my head. “He got me drunk instead.”

“You needed a drink,” Freddy said lightly.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Fine. Cousin Severus got rid of the bruises. You can really throw a good one, man. I’ve got to give you credit for that, anyway.”

“I’m sorry, Freddy. I…”

“Hey, you don’t have to explain,” he replied. “Look, I forgot that you had wanted to be a Healer. It was my fault.”

Tears welled up again, but I fought them back. “No, it’s my fault. I had no right to lash out like that. He’s making me tell Dad what I did tonight.”

“I’ll help you if you want. You don’t have to do it alone.”

“No, Freddy, this is something I have to do on my own. He’s going to be pissed.”

Freddy patted me on the knee. “Dad’s a pretty understanding guy, George. You know how he is. Knowing Dad, he’ll probably blame himself or something.”

I tried to force a pathetic smile. “Hey, Freddy, I’m actually really happy for you, about being a Healer, I mean. If I can’t do it, it’s good that someone from the family carries on the tradition. Congratulations, man.”

He put an arm around my shoulders and leaned his head against mine. “You’d be ten times better than me. I’ll just try to make you proud.”


	6. George's Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“What’s up, George?” Dad asked, more worried than before. “Is it a bad grade?”_
> 
> _“No.”_
> 
> _“Did you and Ellie have an argument?”_
> 
> _“No, I mean, she’s great. We’re just fine.”_
> 
> _“Did you have a fight with Freddy?”_
> 
> _I paused. “I…” I sighed heavily, lost for what to say._
> 
> _Dad nodded. “What did you argue about?”_
> 
> _“It…it was more than…than an argument.” I spoke barely above a whisper._
> 
> _Dad frowned. “Did he hit you? Did you have a fight?”_
> 
> _“No, he didn’t hit me. I…hit him.”_
> 
> _“What?” Dad said in apparent disbelief. “You hit your brother? George, why would you do such a thing?”_
> 
> _I lost it. That was it. I couldn’t hold it in any more. Dad looked on, horrified by the display._

The train ride back to London was long and uneventful. I had no appetite for anything, not even for the most scrumptious sweets they had on the Hogwarts Express. Freddy, Tom and Lydia ate mountains of Cauldron Cakes and Chocolate Frogs, but all I could do was stare blankly out the window, rehearsing in my mind exactly what I would tell my father about my fight with my brother.

My first scenario involved me kneeling at his feet begging for forgiveness. But that was ludicrous. Dad wasn’t one to allow anyone to kneel at his feet for any reason.

The second scenario involved Dad giving me a long and stern lecture on the dangers of violence and that what I had done had threatened to destroy our family trust. Nah. Too extreme, even for my Dad.

I thought of exaggerating the events and making Freddy out to have struck first—but that would be a lie.

My stomach ached horribly, and by the time the train had pulled into King’s Cross, I felt like it was on fire. I felt heavy and paralysed and more tense than I usually am. My hands were cold and clammy. Freddy threw me a sympathetic glance before he reached up to help Lydia get her bags down from the rack.

“Ready?” he asked me.

“No,” I breathed. My voice shook.

“I’ll be with you if you want, George,” Freddy said. “It might be a good idea.”

“No thanks. Like I said, I need to do this alone. Just wish me luck.” I grabbed my bag and made my way down the crowded corridor of the train, out onto the platform.

There they were, smiling and waving. Mum was even jumping up and down as we all emerged, and Dad was holding Will in his arms. I felt sick. Lydia and Tom ran ahead and jumped into their arms enthusiastically, whilst I lagged behind with Freddy. He stayed by my side the whole time, which I really appreciated. He really is a good brother.

Mum noticed my pallor and my unfocused eyes and frowned.

“You’re not ill, are you?” she asked, immediately putting her hand to my forehead.

I instinctively pulled away a little. “I’m fine, Mum. Just tired.” Tom snorted but Lydia elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

Dad looked suspicious. I hoped he wasn’t using Legilimency on me, because if he were, he would have seen the whole ugly story. I looked down, focusing my eyes on my shoes and then on Will, who had grown a lot since we went away. Will looks a lot like me, which means he’s another carbon copy of Dad. Mum looked pretty good, mostly the same. I thought I detected a little bump around her abdomen—could it be Weasley-Chaucer number six? What did I know? Maybe Freddy could figure it out.

Freddy walked with Mum and Tom and Lydia, but Dad hung back to walk with me.

“You okay, George?” he asked. Did he know? Did he suspect trouble?

I shrugged. “Tired. Late night last night.”

He slipped his arm through mine. “I missed you, you know. You’re my Twin.”

I smiled but didn’t laugh. I was too stressed to give anything other than a perfunctory grin. Dad frowned. He had to know I’d been in trouble. I felt even more sick than before.

My mood didn’t improve after I got home. Mum invited all the grandparents over for a huge welcome home dinner—both my grandmothers did most of the cooking, which was probably a good thing, considering that neither of my parents was very talented in the kitchen. We ate a lot of take-away growing up, lots of curries and kebabs and pizzas. My grandmothers, on the other hand, were amazing cooks. This night was no exception. They made everything I loved—roast beef and Yorkshire pudding and a huge salad and green beans and potatoes and every good thing.

I couldn’t eat more than a few bites, and after ten minutes, I excused myself to go lie down. Everyone, especially my Dad, looked concerned.

Safely in the comfortable darkness of my room, I lay on my bed and agonised over the inevitable confession. I didn’t fear some huge physical punishment—my parents were against corporal punishment—but I dreaded the look of pain and disappointment I knew I would see on my Dad’s face. How could his son beat up a brother? The Chaucers and the Weasleys are supposed to be better than that!

A soft knock on the door took me out of my miserable reverie. Here we go. As the door opened, a little shaft of light came in, shining on my tear-stained face and the plain, white walls of my room. Dad poked his head in, then entered. He switched on the light, which made me throw my hands over my eyes.

“Don’t,” I grunted.

Dad came over to my bed and sat next to me. “I want to check on you,” he said. “You look terrible. I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I’m not sick,” I protested.

“Well something’s going on with you,” he replied. He felt my forehead and the sides of my face. “You feel okay. But since when do you turn down your favourite dinner and sequester yourself in your room? Everyone is here to see you. We’re all worried about you.”

“I guess I’m not feeling very social tonight,” I said. Pathetic answer, I know.

“What’s up, George?” Dad asked, more worried than before. “Is it a bad grade?”

“No.”

“Did you and Ellie have an argument?”

“No, I mean, she’s great. We’re just fine.”

“Did you have a fight with Freddy?”

I paused. “I…” I sighed heavily, lost for what to say.

Dad nodded. “What did you argue about?”

“It…it was more than…than an argument.” I spoke barely above a whisper.

Dad frowned. “Did he hit you? Did you have a fight?”

“No, he didn’t hit me. I…hit him.”

“What?” Dad said in apparent disbelief. “You hit your brother? George, why would you do such a thing?”

I lost it. That was it. I couldn’t hold it in any more. Dad looked on, horrified by the display.

“My gods, George!” he exclaimed. “Calm down! Hey! Brothers fight, you know. Sometimes they even hit each other. Your uncles certainly had some scuffles when they were growing up. My cousin Tony and I had our share of shoving matches when we were kids, too. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Did you get in trouble?”

I nodded, gasping and choking and trying to regain control of my raging emotions. “Cousin Severus gave me ten hours of detention.”

Dad chuckled at that. “You got off light, trust me.” He sat next to me on the bed and stretched out his legs. “Did you apologise to Freddy?”

“Yeah, I mean, he was really cool about it. We’re okay.”

Dad nodded. “Listen, George, I think we really need to talk about all this worrying of yours. You put so much stress on yourself! You know you’re going to make yourself sick if you are in this state over one little fight with Freddy. It’s not normal to worry like you do. I don’t want you having a nervous breakdown before you’re out of school!”

“You don’t get it, Dad!” I cried. “He wants to be a Healer! He wants the job that I can’t have because I’m a damn stupid Squib! I hit him because I was jealous of him and because I hated him and I hated myself for hating him so much!” I dissolved into new, violent tears. Not only had I punched out Freddy, but now I had taken away his surprise by telling Dad about being a Healer. Another disappointment.

“Don’t use that word!” he snapped. “It’s ugly and demeaning!”

“It’s an ugly and demeaning state!” I snapped back. “I hate it!”

I really thought he was going to cry just then—had I gone too far? Instead, Dad put his arms around me and held me close. What else could he do? “I love you, George,” he whispered, stroking my hair. “You’re a beautiful, wonderful young man. Listen, we’ll figure something out, kid. You have so many talents and gifts to share with the world. You know that, right?”

I nodded, sniffling.

“George, you’ve got a long time to figure out something for yourself. You’re only fifteen! You’re sixteen in a week! When I was your age, all I wanted was to be a muggle doctor. I was going to go to Cambridge, and then to Stanford to study medicine. I had it all figured out, but then I went and got hit by a lorry, and my whole life changed. Once I was a wizard, I had to accept that I had to give up all those old dreams because they weren’t right for me. They didn’t fit any more, and I had to find an equivalent in the wizarding world. And once I found something that was right, my life fell into place.”

Cousin Severus was right about Dad—I was grateful for his compassion just then.

“But there isn’t anything in this world I can do!” I said tearfully. “I can’t even mop a bloody floor!”

“That’s not true,” Dad replied. “But we’ll just have to be a little clever in figuring out what you can do. I don’t want you mopping any floors, bloody or otherwise.”

“I’m not stupid, Dad.”

“I know that, George, I know. You’re the cleverest one in the family. Even muggles as clever as you sometimes have a hard time finding something. But if you and I put our heads together, maybe we can even invent something.”

I sniffled loudly. Dad conjured a handkerchief and handed it to me.

“Thanks, Dad.” I blew my nose. “Don’t tell Freddy I spoiled his announcement. He wanted to tell you personally.”

Dad laughed. “I’ll be the best actor in bloody England, right?” He stood up and straightened his robes. “Look, why don’t you clean up a little and join us? Grandpa Weasley has something for you.”

* * * * *

As I washed my face with ice cold water, I could hear my father trudge back downstairs to the dining room, where the party clattered on. I looked at myself in the mirror and tried to smile at my reflection. But my brown eyes were puffy and my hair was sort of all messy. I looked at the comb resting on the vanity, focusing all my thoughts and energy on it.

“Accio comb!” I said, pointing my finger at it. Nothing. OK, so maybe if I had used a wand… Let’s give it a try! 

I snuck into my parents’ room and fished out my Dad’s beautiful black wand from his bedside table, then crept back to the bathroom and shut the door. I pointed the wand at the comb.

“Accio comb!” I said. It actually waggled a slight bit—I’m pretty sure it did. But for the most part, nothing. “Damn.”

I picked up the comb and fixed my hair so it looked normal again, then returned the wand to my Dad’s bedside table before going back to the party, looking as bright and refreshed as I could manage. Mum stood up, looking worried.

“You alright, George?” she asked, giving me a little kiss on the cheek. She mussed my hair, making it all messy again. Oh well.

“Yeah. Sorry, everyone,” I said, sitting down next to my uncle George. “Got a bit ill coming back.”

“Aww,” Grandma Weasley said sympathetically. “Well you look much better now you had a little lie-down.” Immediately, she shoved a plate piled high with dinner in front of me. It wasn’t blazing hot, but it still tasted good. I ate every bite, and had seconds.

“Slow down, namesake,” Uncle George said, laughing. “Give us all a chance to get seconds!” He elbowed me in the ribs. I laughed and elbowed him back.

Sitting directly across from me at the table, Freddy gave me a wink, then stood up to make his big announcement. I braced myself, swearing I wouldn’t freak out again. Freddy tapped on his glass to get everyone’s attention.

“Thanks everyone!” he said. “This welcome home feast has been the best one yet! And of course for me, it’s my last one.”

That made Grandma Weasley let out a sob, which she tried to muffle with her oversized handkerchief. Freddy went on.

“Anyway, I’ll be moving on with life after June, and it’s taken me a long time to come to a decision about what I want to do with myself and my life. For most of my life, I swore I would never be a Healer.” Everyone laughed, including me. “Sorry, Dad,” Freddy said. “But there came a moment this term when I rethought all of that, and so, I have decided to enter Healer Training this coming August.”

“Oi!” Uncle Fred shouted. “You’ve got to pass your exams first!” Everyone laughed again.

It was a really hard announcement to listen to, I admit. Those same feelings of injustice and envy still lurked within me, to my frustration, but this time, I managed to contain myself. Freddy looked at me with a little concern, and continued his little speech.

“I know that what I’m doing is something that a lot of people would like to do, but can’t for various reasons,” he said. He wasn’t going to gloat, was he? “Therefore, I believe that it is all the more important for me to take this path seriously and use it to honour brilliant chaps like my brother, George, here, who would undoubtedly be a million times better at the Healing Arts than me, but who through no fault of his own, is barred from the profession.”

“But he’ll tutor your on your exams, right?” Uncle George asked. Everyone laughed.

“I hope so!” Freddy replied. “I want to make a toast to my brother, George, because I think he’s just about the bravest person I know. All of us can take our magic for granted, but George is brave enough to face every day in our world as he is, and for my part, George, I think you’re splendid.”

Where did all that come from? I had just punched his face last night, broken his nose! And then, everyone at the table stood up and raised their glasses to me. I didn’t know what to say, and unfortunately, I was still pretty emotionally raw from my earlier meltdown. I could feel my eyes well up with tears, but managed to dry them with the back of my sleeves before they slithered down my cheeks. Close call. Grandma Weasley, on the other hand, was a tear-stained, sobbing mess.

But wait—was I supposed to say something?

“Go on, George,” Uncle George goaded me. “Speak up!” He nudged me to stand up.

“Uh…hi,” I said stupidly. “Well, uh, now that Freddy has completely put me on the spot, I want to pose him a challenge. In the muggle world, doctors and scientists have created devices for the deaf to hear, and have done surgeries to cure blindness. They have done adult stem cell research that has allowed the paralysed to walk again, and have developed medications to cure many cancers. Keeping that in mind, I challenge all those in the Healing profession to create a potion that will allow the Magically Challenged to do at least basic magic, if not more.”

Dad looked interested.

Freddy looked unsure. Still, he raised his glass to me. “Challenge taken,” he said.

Who knows? Maybe he really would come up with something. It might take him the next twenty years, but I was willing to wait. In the end, it might be worth it.

But in the meantime…


	7. An Unusual Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The air was cold and crisp that morning, really bracing. It felt good. I walked briskly, looking with curiosity at the muggle cars and buses and shops as I passed. In fact, I was so engrossed by everything around me that I wasn’t quite looking where I was going when I stepped off a curb._
> 
> _I missed._

I was born two days after Boxing Day. Mum always calls me her belated Christmas present. She still loves to tell the story of that Christmas, when she was just about to pop because she was so pregnant with me. I was active _in utero_ , almost too active. Mum was convinced that I was going to be twins. One day my head would be on top, and the very next day, on the bottom, and that was when I was full term. Healer Rosen was a bit nervous and even wanted to take me early. It was a different case with Freddy, who was at least a week late. Dad doesn’t like to talk about Freddy’s birth, but that’s because he was half terrified that Mum was going to die.

It’s actually pretty cool to be born so near to Christmas—better after than before, anyway. My parents always made sure I didn’t get short-changed on either day, which always made my other siblings a little jealous, including Lydia. Her birthday is at the start of December, so it’s not quite the same for her.

The morning of my sixteenth birthday, I awoke really early, at about 5:30 in the morning. I’m not sure what got me up at that hour, but I knew I was done sleeping. No one else was scheduled to wake before 8:00, so I decided to take an early morning walk, just to stretch my legs and calm my anxiety—Dad got me into the habit of using exercise to reduce stress when I was just seven years old. Sometimes it’s hard to get out enough during the wintertime, since there’s so much rain and snow. But today was different—it was cold but sunny, and I felt encouraged to get outside. I dressed in muggle jeans and a thick, red sweater and took off, being sure to leave a note in the kitchen in case anyone wondered where I was.

When I was a little boy, my Dad would carry me on his shoulders to the corner newsstand every single morning. That was my special time with him in those days, when I got Dad all to myself, even if it was just for a few minutes. But when you’re three, you’re not counting the minutes much at all. Those trips to the corner also fostered in me a love for the early morning walk, and so, in my Dad’s tradition, I took off. I knew to be careful crossing the streets, and so I made my way down the street, down to the corner and across the street.

The air was cold and crisp that morning, really bracing. It felt good. I walked briskly, looking with curiosity at the muggle cars and buses and shops as I passed. In fact, I was so engrossed by everything around me that I wasn’t quite looking where I was going when I stepped off a curb.

I missed.

I didn’t see the pothole at the bottom of the curb and just like that, SMASH! I crashed down with my full weight on the side of my ankle. I could feel the bone snap under my weight as I fell into the street with a shriek. Pain exploded through my entire ankle, foot, leg, hip, as if I had just been attacked and violently electrocuted or slashed with knives. There I lay in the street, writhing in sheer agony, shouting obscenities at the top of my lungs.

This was not happening! It was my birthday, for gods’ sake! This wasn’t fair!

And then…headlights! No!

I panicked. My heart raced. The car drew nearer, swerving to miss me just by inches. It did not stop. I managed to struggle to the curb, where I heaved myself up, still holding onto my broken ankle gingerly, protectively. I groaned pitifully. What a mess!

If I had known magic, I could have at least conjured some crutches or disapparate or something, but as I was magically derelict, I was entirely on my own, and by now, three blocks from home, and with no mobile phone to call anyone. How would I get home? They’d worry about me, I knew that. Once they realised I wasn’t home yet, Mum and Dad would freak out. I could crawl home, I suppose, or I could hop. I swore under my breath as the pain tore through me. What was I supposed to do now?

“Oh gods! how am I going to get home?” I wondered aloud. My ankle ached and burned.

In the distance, a man and his dog approached, rushing towards me in a panic. He waved at me frantically as I lay there on the pavement, still in complete agony. I could tell straight away that he was a muggle. Fortunately, I hadn’t worn my winter robes that morning. He looked friendly, as far as I could see—I hoped he was friendly. He was round and looked more than a little like Father Christmas, actually.

“Hey!” the man shouted. “You alright, sonny?” He squatted down beside me, visibly concerned. “I saw that car coming straight at you! Thank goodness it missed you! You okay?”

“I think I broke my ankle,” I said. I was incredibly calm, in spite of the pain I felt. My whole body shook from fright and agony. “I tripped on the pothole!”

“Goodness!” the man exclaimed. “Let me have a look. I’m a doctor, you know. My surgery isn’t too far from here, actually. May I?” He squatted down and pushed up my pant leg to get a better look at my bruised, swollen ankle. It was entirely black and blue, and horribly swollen. It hurt even when he touched my pant leg. I winced.

“Ow ow ow! Stop!” It felt like nails being driven viciously through my ankle.

“This needs immediate attention,” he said. He looked worried—really worried. That made me nervous—really nervous. “We should splint this straight away and get you to hospital. What’s your name, son?”

“George Weasley-Chaucer. Look, sir, if I can just call my Dad, he can come for me. I live close by. Do you have a mobile phone?” I asked. “I live nearby, and my father is a Hea…a doctor, and he can take care of this himself. I swear.” The longer I sat there on the cold pavement, the more my ankle really hurt like heck. I was starting to sweat from the pain.

“I can call an ambulance, son. Just stay calm.” I guess he could see my distress.

But there was no way I could go to a muggle hospital. That would be a big mistake. “No really, sir. My house is just three blocks from here. My Dad can come for me in a flash, really. If you could just ring him up.”

The man pulled out his mobile. “What’s the number?”

I told him the number. “My Dad is Mr. Nigel Chaucer.”

The man raised his eyebrows. “Nigel Chaucer? That sounds familiar.”

I shrugged. Years ago, there was a vile article printed about my Dad, telling all sorts of myths and lies about our world. I supposed the man was remembering that. He dialed.

“Yes, is this Mr. Chaucer?...Yes, my name is Dr. Roger Owen. I’m standing on the corner with a George Weasley-Chaucer who claims to be your son…Yes well he’s broken an ankle, actually…No, no, he’s alright otherwise. Quite a pleasant boy, fell off the curb apparently…”

He told my Dad where we were and promised to wait with me whilst my Dad came to get me. I wondered how Dad would manage it. He could conjure a car, I supposed. Or he could just walk. I hoped he wouldn’t apparate. But wouldn’t this Dr. Owen be suspicious? I would have to trust Dad’s judgement. My ankle really hurt. I was desperate to have my Dad heal it, just to end the pain and horrible anxiety that was building up in me.

I decided to speak up. “Thank you so much, sir. I really appreciate it. He should be along in just a few minutes.”

Dr. Owen sat down on the curb. His dog sniffed my ear and licked my cheek. “Just keep your leg still. You’ll be just fine. I wish I had something to splint your ankle.”

It suddenly struck me that this man was a doctor. A muggle doctor! Dangerous thoughts raced through my mind.

“You know, sir,” I said, feeling bold, “I have an interest in becoming a doctor.”

“Really? What are you studying right now?”

It wasn’t like I could actually tell him what I was studying at Hogwarts. I needed a quick response. “Well what subjects should I be taking?”

“Oh, the usual ones. Biology, Chemistry, obviously. Calculus, of course, all to get ready for med school.”

Of course. How obvious! But wait—I hadn’t taken any of that! Well, I did know some Calculus, but that was it. Somehow, I didn’t think that Squib-level Potions would quite suffice in medical school.

“How long does it take to study Biology and Chemistry?” I asked.

“You aren’t studying that now?” he asked, perplexed.

“Uh, well, no, not now. I’m taking Maths, but not science.”

Dr. Owen frowned. “Well, of course it all depends on your A-levels, but to a certain degree on your transcript, too. You should have mostly A grades if you expect to study for medicine. You look old enough to be taking your exams soon.”

A-levels? I’d heard of them, I think. I thought of my OWLs coming up in June. “Well yes, as a matter of fact, I do have my exams coming up. But they’re not A-levels.”

“Ah! GCSE’s! Well if you’re not taking science now, you’d better get a start over the summer! When you’re at university, you’ll be taking Organic Chemistry, and that course is a real killer! You have to be really prepared for that one.”

The pain in my stomach just then was suddenly far worse than the throbbing pain of my broken ankle. My father would mend my ankle in a second, but there was no making up for the time I’d lost in preparing for something like Organic Chemistry. I didn’t even know what that was! And GCSE’s? What exactly were those? So many thoughts rushed through my mind as I sat there on the cold pavement, waiting for Dad to come for me. What if I became a muggle doctor instead of a Healer? What if I studied Organic Chemistry and whatever else it took to become a doctor? My thoughts grew dark, dangerous. One thing became abundantly clear to me the more I pondered the possibility.

I would have to leave Hogwarts. In fact, I would have to leave the wizarding world almost entirely if I were to pursue my dream. Then again, my Dad had wanted to be a doctor when he was a muggle. He set aside that dream when he became a wizard and instead, became a Healer. Who was to say I was wrong to do it in reverse? I couldn’t be a Healer because I’m Magically Challenged, so why not become a doctor instead? The thought overwhelmed me, brought me a strange mixture of peace and new worry.

Dad and Freddy arrived in about five minutes, running at full speed down the street. Fortunately, they had thought to dress as muggles. Out of breath, they both squatted down to check my injury.

“You must be Dr. Owen,” Dad said, shaking Dr. Owen’s hand.

“His ankle is broken—it’ll be hard to tell exactly the sort of break until it’s x-rayed, of course,” Dr. Owen replied.

Freddy looked perplexed, but Dad played his role well. “Naturally.” He put his hand behind his back, out of Dr. Owen’s sight, and conjured a stick. Then, he reached into his coat pocket, and after a couple of seconds, pulled out a big rolled bandage.

“I’ll hold the splint while you roll,” Dr. Owen said.

I was worried for a moment that Dad might not know what to do. Did Healers deal with bandages? I supposed so, because as Dad rolled on the bandage around my throbbing ankle, he seemed to be doing it just right. All the same, it hurt like a bastard, and I tried as best I could not to cry out in pain as he went. Freddy squatted behind me and put his hands on my shoulders.

“Some birthday, little bro,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

Dr. Owen looked up. “Is it your birthday, George?”

I nodded, biting my lip as a new pain shot through me. The colour drained from my face.

“I’m almost done, Georgie,” Dad said, noting my distress. “Hey, what sort of dog is that?” Dad asked. When Dr. Owen looked away from my ankle, Dad waved his hand over the bandage, magically fastening it.

“He’s a schnauzer. Name’s Bingo.”

Freddy laughed. “Like the muggle song!”

Dad flashed him a quick, furious look, but to me, it seemed like Dr. Owen had missed it entirely. He was too busy patting Bingo’s head.

“Come on, Freddy, let’s get him up,” Dad said, grabbing me a little too roughly under the arm. Why was he taking out his irritation on me?

Freddy grabbed me under the other arm and together, they pulled me to my feet.

Dad shook Dr. Owen’s hand again. “Thank you so much for helping my son, Dr. Owen.”

“Roger.”

“Roger. Please call me Nigel.”

“Well, Nigel, you’ve got a wonderful boy here. I hope he makes it to medical school!”

Shit. I wish he hadn’t said that.

“Do you need any help? My car is just two blocks away,” Dr. Owen said.

“You’re very kind, Roger,” Dad said, “but we can take it from here. Thank you so much for your help. You’re a true friend.”

“Yes, thanks so much,” I echoed. “And for the advice, too.”

Dad looked at me curiously for a moment. I put my arms around their shoulders, and after we bade farewell to Dr. Owen and Bingo, we hobbled our way back towards our house. But after a half a block, Dad looked back—the doctor was gone, far out of sight.

“In here,” he said, directing us into a little alleyway. He had me stand against the wall, holding onto Freddy for support, then pulled out his wand. I couldn’t hear the incantation, but all I know is that the moment he said it, my ankle felt loads better. In fact, we could unwrap the bandages and take off the splint. Dad busied himself putting on my sock and shoe.

“Thanks,” I said, relieved that the blinding pain was over.

Dad patted me on the back. “Can you put a little pressure on it?”

It felt alright. “Yeah, it’s good.”

“Let’s get you home. Your mum might think you were treated my muggle medicine.”

We all laughed and walked the rest of the way home, though a bit slowly. At home, Mum had made all my favorites for breakfast—that is, she enlisted Grandma Weasley to make all my favourites. We ate bangers and eggs and these amazing scones from a bakery in Dad’s home town. Mum apparated to Florida to buy some fresh orange juice, and Tom and Lydia had worked hard to set the table in an elaborate and elegant way, just for me.

I felt like a prince.

We all laughed over my fall in the pothole, though Dad blanched when I told everyone about the car that almost hit me—I guess it brought back some bad memories for him. But soon, his brief gloom was replaced by pleasure as I opened up my presents. Lydia painted me a picture of Hogwarts—it was beautiful. Freddy gave me a ticket to a Quidditch match—England versus Macedonia, for the final spot in the World Cup. It would just be the two of us. I almost cried.


	8. The Accidental Apparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _My mind was tormented by too many conflicting notions that night—instead of falling into a pleasant sleep after a wonderful day and a fabulous party, I lay awake in my bed, twisting my blankets about, grinding my teeth and trying desperately to stop the flow of unsettling thoughts. But the harder I tried, the worse my insomnia became. My emotions threatened to get the better of me in that terrible moment. Get me somewhere else! Anywhere! I didn’t care where! Out of this bed and out of this situation!_

Presents. Cake. Celebration. An all-around great birthday. After all, it’s serious business when a boy turns sixteen. If I were a wizard, I’d be allowed to apparate now. It’s so strange. None of it really mattered when I was a boy—I had friends, went to Hogwarts, was respected and liked by my peers and by my professors. So what that I was Magically Challenged? Who really cared? That was then.

But now, I was becoming a man. Well, almost a man. In wizard society, you’re an adult at seventeen, so in reality, I had a year to go. Same old problem. What’s a Squib to do? Meeting Dr. Owen had left a serious mark on me, making me think about things I dared not consider before. The prospect of being a muggle doctor was beyond tempting. I could almost taste it, it was so sweet. Who cared that I had never taken Chemistry or Biology before? Who cared that I had never even heard of Organic Chemistry? To be honest, I had no idea what that might entail. All I knew was that suddenly, there was a chance for me to fulfill my dream! Nothing could stop me now!

Except maybe Mum and Dad…and truth.

He was visibly worried, palpably concerned. Throughout the entire birthday party, even Cousin Severus looked more cheerful than Dad, and that’s saying something. 

We had a huge bash at the house, with tons of guests over—family and friends and assorted people I wasn’t so sure I knew. Some of Mum’s people from _The Portal_ were there, and various Ministry people showed up, too. They even brought me presents! Grandma and Grandpa Chaucer came, and the entire Weasley clan came, spouses, children, everyone. Uncles Fred and George brought an array of stuff from their shop, all Squib-safe. Uncle Charlie brought me a dragon leather jacket, which is really smart. Uncle Bill gave me 2500 shares in Gringott’s stock.

Ellie came, too, which was a complete surprise. She had told me she would be at home the entire holiday with her family, so when she walked in the door, a small box in her hand, my heart nearly shot out of my body! Like young fools, we ran to each other and threw ourselves into each other’s arms—I swept her up and spun her around off her feet.

“Surprise!” she exclaimed, kissing me on the lips.

Uncles Fred and George made a few whistles and cat-calls, but I ignored them. I kissed her back. She smelled like spring.

“I heard about your accident this morning,” Ellie said, laughing. “I didn’t know you were such a klutz!”

“I think that pothole grew overnight,” I said. “It sort of snuck up on me!”

“I’m glad you didn’t get run over by that car!”

“Who told you all this?” I wondered.

“Freddy. He apparated me here, told me the whole story.”

My whole day was complete. We all ate cake, danced like crazy, played games, opened presents. For the first time in weeks, all stress and worry, which usually plagued my mind and body, dissipated like steam. At least for the time being.

As the party finally came to an end and all the guests made their way home. Ellie lingered for a while—the two of us went to the back garden, hand in hand, not saying much.

“It’s cold out here,” she said.

I wrapped her in my thick wool cloak and held her warm and close for a while. She rested her head on my shoulder and sighed.

“This is nice,” she murmured. I could feel her hands caressing my back gently, softly. I loved her hands.

“I’m so glad you came, Ellie,” I said. “I love you.”

She looked up and me and smiled. “I love you, too, George.”

My hands were freezing, but I didn’t care. I leaned close and kissed her lips, pouring my entire being, my emotions, my passion for her into that kiss. The world around me disappeared suddenly as our kiss deepened, grew more and more intense. I could feel her teeth against mine, her tongue tracing the edge of mine. Our grip on each other became stronger, more fierce and then…

“Ahem!”

We jumped apart, thrown viciously back into the present time. I whipped around to see Dad standing in the doorway, looking a bit grim. I cleared my throat and we both straightened our robes.

“I was going to ask you if you were cold,” Dad said, “but apparently you two are just fine.”

We laughed, though I was mortified. Dad knew that I dated a lot and had a girlfriend, but it’s still pretty awkward to get caught like that by him. Of course, I knew full well that he and Mum got up to much more than I ever did—then again, they’re married.

“I guess it’s time to go,” Ellie said.

“Ready?” Freddy asked her, appearing at the doorway behind Dad.

I kissed Ellie once more before she left. “See you at school,” we both said. And then she was gone.

Dad put a hand on my shoulder. “She’s a nice girl.”

I nodded, blushing hotly. Her kiss was still on my lips—I wished it would stay there forever.

“Dad, thanks for the party tonight. It was one of the best nights of my life.”

Dad grinned. “Well, you’re worth it, George.”

“And thanks for earlier today, fixing my ankle and all.”

Dad paused. “I think you and I need to talk, George,” he said.

“About what?” I asked. I knew what he meant, but I wasn’t so sure I wanted to talk about it just then. “Do we have to right now?”

“How about if I take you out for lunch tomorrow afternoon? There’s a new place in Diagon Alley I’ve wanted to try for ages.”

I didn’t want to, but then again, I could never really say no to my Dad. Plus, as much as I resisted, I knew I would have to discuss the whole medical school thing with my parents eventually, especially if that meant leaving Hogwarts.

I wanted to leave and I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to leave Ellie or my friends. But I wanted new opportunities. I knew I was clever enough to handle medical school, and I knew I was clever enough to catch up on the muggle science pretty quickly. But I knew I would jeopardise any future in the wizarding world if I didn’t take my exams. Then again, what future was it if I was Magically Challenged?

My mind was tormented by too many conflicting notions that night—instead of falling into a pleasant sleep after a wonderful day and a fabulous party, I lay awake in my bed, twisting my blankets about, grinding my teeth and trying desperately to stop the flow of unsettling thoughts. But the harder I tried, the worse my insomnia became. My emotions threatened to get the better of me in that terrible moment. Get me somewhere else! Anywhere! I didn’t care where! Out of this bed and out of this situation!

The room went black as I felt like I’d been sucked into a pounding vortex, pressing hard on my entire body, suffocating me. What was going on? Was I finally falling asleep but having a nightmare? And then, I tumbled to the cold, hard ground below me, flat on my back.

What had just happened? I opened my eyes, but to my shock and horror, was no longer in my room. I lay on the side of a snow-covered lane, surrounded by gnarled trees and a long, wooden fence that stretched far along the lane, into the dark horizon. I sat up, struggling to get my bearings. Suddenly, it hit me.

I had just apparated. My gods! I just apparated!

But where?

“Oh my gods,” I whispered.

What a stupid situation! There I was in my pajamas, barefoot, with no idea where I was. I didn’t even know if I was in England! I stood up, but didn’t know where to go. I had nothing with me—no phone, no shoes, no cloak—how would I get back? If I could find a phone, I could call my Dad. It was so dark outside, though, and plus, it was late. Wherever I was, I was sure that everyone around was fast asleep.

My only choice was to walk, hoping to find a house or something. The only thing that made sense to me was to follow the fence, hoping that I would find a house nearby. I walked for about five minutes or so, and happily, I saw something! But as I expected, the windows were all dark. Now what?

It was really cold, and my feet were starting to hurt—if I could just sit somewhere, find something to cover up my frozen toes. I stood at the drive of the house, peering around to see if there was somewhere to sit, or even some shed.

“This is crazy,” I said to myself. “They’re going to think I’m a prowler and have me arrested.” But I was so cold. It struck me that I could possibly apparate back home, but I didn’t want to risk getting splinched—if I could even apparate at all. This had to have been some sort of weird fluke, and I knew better than to push my luck.

As I made my way back down the drive towards the lane, a light went on behind me. My heart stopped for a second—this could be either really good or really bad. I turned around, only to see an angry man storming out of the house, holding…a gun!

“Hey you!” he bellowed. “Get out of here!”

I threw my hands up. “Please, sir! I’m sorry!” I sounded pathetic. I was pathetic. “Do you have a phone I could use? I’m out here on my own, and I’ve got no shoes and I really need to call my father so he can come for me!”

“I said, get out of here!” He pointed the gun at my head.

“Sir, please!” I begged. “If I could just use your phone to call my Dad! You could telephone him for me, if you don’t trust me! Please, sir! I’m freezing out here!”

“Oh give him the bloody phone, Gavin!” the man’s wife snapped. She trudged outside, shivering from the cold. She was a plump, hard-looking woman, with stark white hair and a long, thin nose. The woman thrust the phone at me.

“Thanks, ma’am,” I said gratefully. “Where exactly am I?”

“Denton Harbour,” she replied.

Denton Harbour? I didn’t even know where that was, except that…

“Do you know the Jessups, by chance?” I asked.

“Bunch of bloody freaks, if you ask me,” the wife replied. “They’re just up the lane a ways, two houses over on the right. Strange lot, the Jessups.”

Suddenly, I had hope. I thanked the muggle couple and dashed back to the lane on my frozen feet, running as fast as I could manage towards Nick and Aidan’s house. I could no longer feel my feet—the situation was getting beyond serious. Finally, after several more blistering steps, I reached the Jessup home. Like the other houses in the area, all the lights were out, indicating that everyone was asleep. But I knew these people—well, some of them anyway. They would understand.

I knocked on the door, as loudly as I could, knowing this would cause great alarm. But I was in a crisis and had no other choice. I knocked again, louder this time. The dog barked, and I waited, very nervous. At long last, a light went on and I could hear movement. I just hoped I got the right house. A face peered through the window, and then the door opened.

Mr. Jessup took one look at me and pulled me inside. I collapsed from the cold—I couldn’t stay on my frozen feet any longer.

“Goodness, George! What are you doing here?” Mr. Jessup asked, horrified at my condition. He got me into a chair and pulled out his wand, letting a blast of warm air cover my feet, which were cut up and swollen. I lay my head back and breathed a sigh of relief.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing here, sir,” I explained. “One minute I was in my bed, and then I was out here.”

He raised his eyebrows in amazement. “You mean you apparated?”

“I guess so.”

“And no splinching?”

I shook my head no.

“Amazing!” he declared. “My Nicky vanished our cat once, but he’s never apparated. Do your parents know about this?”

“No! That’s just it! I was in bed! We were all in bed! They have no idea I’m gone!” That old, stomach-churning worry came back fiercely.

“Don’t worry, George,” Mr. Jessup said, seeing how upset I was. “I’ll ring them up right now. And I’ll explain what happened.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Mr. Jessup conjured up a cup of tea for me, then rang up my house, leaving the room to talk to my parents. I wasn’t sure what their reaction would be. Would they be proud? excited? angry? hurt? I had no idea. Personally, I was afraid, but also frustrated. Obviously I had a little magic in me. But I also knew that this was just a strange fluke. There was no way I could do this in any other context than sheer panic or angst. That made me all the more unsuited for muggle life, but it didn’t solve my other problems, either. In fact, it made them worse.

When Dad arrived two minutes later, he rushed to me, both frantic and excited.

“My gods, George!” he exclaimed. “How did this happen?”

I wasn’t sure if I was in trouble or not. After all, this was the second time in just twenty-four hours where he had to come and fetch me from somewhere. Sometimes it really sucks being a Squib. A wizard could have acted immediately in both situations. But not me. It was humiliating.

“Sorry, Dad,” I said quietly, not wanting to look at him. “I…I don’t know what happened, I mean I…I just apparated, I guess. I didn’t know what to do and I didn’t know where I was and then my feet got frozen and thank the gods I found the Jessups! Were you asleep? Did I get you out of bed? Dad, I’m really sorry!” I was nearly in tears by then. It was late and I was tired and stressed out and embarrassed.

But Dad just gave me a hug, then looked down at my injured feet, almost in tears. Taking them in his hands, one by one, he whispered an incantation and in just a minute, my feet were healed and back to normal. He knelt before me, looking at me with this weird mixture of curiosity and…fear. I knew that he wanted to know exactly what happened, and how, and why, but I wasn’t sure what to say. And besides, what was the point? Clearly this was an accidental apparation, so why belabour the point and give me some false hopes?

I weighed my options in the space of those few seconds, struggling to come to some vague understanding of who I was and why, for gods’ sake, I found myself so far away from home.


	9. Investigating George

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Busy day today,” Dad said._
> 
> _“Yeah.”_
> 
> _“Broken ankle, birthday party, unplanned apparation. You must be exhausted.” He was joking and not joking._
> 
> _“I’ve been a real pain today, haven’t I?” Guilt started to weigh me down as I picked at the cake on my plate._
> 
> _“What’s going on with you, George?” Dad asked. “How did this happen? How did you apparate like that?”_
> 
> _“I don’t know,” I replied._

It was still dark when Dad and I got home. The house was quiet. Too quiet.

“Let’s go to the kitchen and have some left over birthday cake,” Dad said.

I nodded and followed him, nervous and tired and wanting to go to bed. Dad rummaged through the fridge and pulled out the box containing the huge chocolate birthday cake. Grandma Chaucer had it made by Miss Julie, the best baker in the world, as far as I’m concerned. He cut me a larger than life piece, and an even bigger one for himself. For a couple of minutes, we ate in silence.

“Busy day today,” Dad said.

“Yeah.”

“Broken ankle, birthday party, unplanned apparation. You must be exhausted.” He was joking and not joking.

“I’ve been a real pain today, haven’t I?” Guilt started to weigh me down as I picked at the cake on my plate.

“What’s going on with you, George?” Dad asked. “How did this happen? How did you apparate like that?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “I was just in a bad mood and really upset and stressed out and…”

Dad frowned. “Why were you upset? Is this about going into medicine?”

“It’s a big decision, Dad,” I said, trying not to whine. “My whole life could change!”

“I know. I had to make the same decision.” He looked straight into my eyes with such kindness that for a minute, I didn’t know how to react. “Of course,” he went on, “I was going in the opposite direction. But had to decide whether to deny my wizard identity or to give up my muggle dreams.”

“But I’m not either,” I pointed out, more harshly than I intended. “I don’t know which world I belong in! At least you had a clear choice.”

“George,” Dad said, now sounding a bit official, a bit too much like a Healer, “I’d like to talk more about this apparation. How about if instead of going to Diagon Alley in the afternoon, we go somewhere you want to go?”

That sounded fair to me, though I wondered what he had in mind. I supposed that was his way of asking to go somewhere private that wasn’t home and wasn’t the office. I chose Malfoy Manor, well, the grounds of Malfoy Manor. I spent some of the best days of my boyhood running about the grounds of that grand place—I hadn’t been since the summer holiday, and I was eager to return.

* * * * *

Dad kept quiet about my accidental apparation for a while, not even telling Mum about what had happened. At the time, I wasn’t sure why he kept it from her—usually, he told Mum everything. But I decided not to press the issue. I supposed he had his reasons. Anyway, I had other things on my mind, and I was sure that Mum would pull it out of him eventually.

Uncle Draco wasn’t home—he had taken Abraxas and Paige to their estate in France for the holiday and wouldn’t be back until January 2. The snowy grounds stood silent and majestic before us as Dad and I wandered towards the frozen lake. Neither of us talked much, just making the occasional comment about the chill in the air or the glistening trees. Dad seemed distracted, preoccupied—then again, so was I. Sometimes I liked to watch Dad outdoors—he had this way of taking in the energy of the air around him, especially when it was especially cold or hot. I wondered how it must have felt, to be filled with the energy of the elements like that. It must have been majestic. We stood side by side at the edge of the crystal lake, just feeling the breeze on our red faces. Dad shivered.

“Is the house open?” I asked.

“The Elf will let us in.”

The Elf, as it turned out, was more than delighted to see us and invited us to warm our legs by the crackling fire in the massive hearth. He served us glasses of brandy and a huge plate of egg sandwiches, then crept silently from the stately library, leaving us alone.

“I want to talk more about your apparation,” Dad said, finishing a sandwich and taking another.

“But it was an accident, Dad,” I protested. “I didn’t even know what had happened until it was all over.”

“Tell me exactly what you were thinking just before it happened,” Dad said.

“I wasn’t really thinking anyway! I mean, I was just nervous and stressed out because of this decision I have to make, and then all I wanted to do was just go away, anywhere! And then I was gone. That’s it. I felt like the world was pressing down on my chest!”

“You must have been terribly upset if that’s what happened,” Dad noted. He sounded pained all of a sudden.

“I was. I was almost out of my mind,” I confessed. “I guess I let my emotions get the better of me.”

Dad sighed heavily. “You get that from me, you know, that tendency to get emotionally overwrought. I’m sorry about that, George. But honey, you let it go too far! You make yourself sick with all your worry!”

I knew that. We’d been over that before. In fact, I was tired of hearing it, even from Dad. I knew he meant well, but I didn’t need to hear any more about how I worried too much.

“Listen, George,” Dad continued, “I don’t want to lecture you about all that, because you already know it’s a problem. But it brings up something fascinating to me.” He looked a bit ravenous just then, to be honest. I worried all over again.

“What do you mean?”

“In a flurry of emotions, you did some extraordinary magic!”

“It was a fluke!”

“I don’t think so, George. I think there might be something we can do for you, to help you access the magic you have.”

“But I don’t have any magic!” I insisted.

“You disapparated! Of course you have magic!”

“Dad!”

“Hear me out, George! I think maybe we made a mistake with you. I think that maybe we misread your difficulty with magic and even rushed to judgement in labeling you Magically Challenged.”

“What do you mean, Dad?” I asked, gob smacked by the suggestion. “I’ve never been able to do magic…”

“You repaired a vase once, remember?”

“That was an accident.”

“You bloody apparated!”

“I didn’t mean to!”

Dad laughed. “George! Listen to yourself!”

I frowned. I didn’t like being mocked, and it was starting to sound like Dad was trying to take the mickey out of me. I hated that. “What’s so funny?” I asked, annoyed. Normally, I wouldn’t dare take that tone with my own father—then again, he didn’t seem offended.

Dad set down his sandwich and looked at me. “You know that the ability to do magic is tied in with the emotions, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I remember when I smashed the bathroom mirror once because I got so angry and my magic got out of my control. That sort of thing happens all the time with young witches and wizards. It takes time to get in under control.”

I’d heard all this before. Heck, I’d witnessed it! When Lydia was just six, she got into a terrible argument with Tom, and all of a sudden, his hair disappeared! I could only imagine what Dad would say to me. To be honest, I was a little afraid of what he’d say.

“You’re a lot like me, George—I guess I keep saying that. But it’s true. Maybe it’s not just a coincidence that you and I look exactly alike. You and I both take things too much to heart. We’re too intense, too emotionally volatile. But there is a difference, and I think it’s that difference which is preventing you from accessing your magical abilities.”

“What do you mean? I don’t have any magical abilities.”

Dad scowled. “I feel like I’m to blame for that, George. I didn’t see until recently just how extreme your anxiety is. You know, I treat people with anxiety every day in my practice.”

I didn’t like that. Dad was the one at St. Mungo’s who treated Incurables—crazy people. “You don’t think I’m crazy, Dad, do you?”

“Of course not, George! No! But you have to admit that you have an anxiety disorder that is obviously interfering with your life and possibly with your magic.”

That didn’t sound good. If that were true, and if I really did have magic, then how would I ever get to use it?

“What do I do, Daddy?” I asked. I didn’t mean to sound so weak, but there it was.

“I don’t know, baby,” Dad replied. “But I want to look into this, seriously, and not just because you’re my son and the love of my life. If you really are a wizard, then you have a right to your abilities.”

Me? A wizard? That was unthinkable! Was this some sort of cruel joke? “Dad, are you sure? Maybe I really am crazy!”

Dad laughed. “Well I’ve always known I’m crazy! But you, George, are perfectly sane. You’re a major stress case, but a sane stress case.”

“That’s a relief,” I quipped.

“But listen, George! If I were to treat you for anxiety,” Dad proposed, “then perhaps we might be able to work with you on your magic.”

“So wait…you really think I might be a wizard?” I didn’t want to believe it. That was too much to bear! What did it mean?

“Honestly, George, I don’t know,” Dad confessed. “But if we can get your anxiety under control, we can start to find out whether you are a wizard or…”

“Or a Squib.” I scowled.

“Don’t use that word, George!” Dad snapped.

“Why not? If that’s what I am, then what’s the harm?”

“We don’t know that you are Magically Challenged, George!”

I looked away, struggling for words. “Dad,” I said, suddenly filled with ugly grief, “I just don’t want to be disappointed.” My voice wobbled horribly.

Dad reached towards me and stroked my hair for a moment. “It’s your choice, George,” he said. “Look, son, if you don’t want to do this, then we won’t. I’m not trying to set you up for disappointment, so please don’t think that’s what I’m doing. Baby, I just want the whole world for you, that’s all.”

I couldn’t help it. A tear slithered down my face for some reason. It was funny—I should have been happy at the prospect of being a wizard, but all I could do was mourn my current condition. Talk about teen drama! Maybe I really was crazy.

“When you first became a wizard,” I asked, sniffling a little, “did you believe it?”

Dad shook his head. “No. I thought maybe I was a bit of a nutter, actually. I’d been in an accident, lost so much blood, had head injuries. My parents thought I was mad as a hatter! It took a full year before I really accepted the reality of it, to tell you the truth. I knew I was a wizard, but what that meant for my future took a long time to sink in.”

“It scares me, Dad,” I said.

“Why?”

I had to be honest. “Because I might start hating people,” I said darkly.

“Would you hate me?”

I looked away. “I…I don’t know.”

Dad sighed. “I guess I wouldn’t blame you, though I hope you won’t hate me for too long.”

“Dad, what does this mean?” I asked, suddenly feeling desperate. 

This should have been a welcome change, a dream come true. But it scared me. It was too much for my mind to handle, if it really were true. And if I really were a wizard, how would I even begin to catch up with everyone else? OK, so Dad didn’t start doing magic until he was sixteen, but like he said, he’s not as anxious as I am. We’re both pretty passionate and intense, but there’s this rational side to Dad that I just don’t have all the time, especially when I get upset. When Dad gets upset, his logic sort of kicks in. When I get upset, I fall apart and get physically ill. Maybe Dad was right. Maybe I really did have an anxiety disorder.

* * * * *

We got home late that evening. When I walked in the house, the first thing I smelled was ham and potatoes—what a grand entrance! Freddy was dressed in a Grandma Weasley sweater—this one was green with a huge gold F on the front—he eyed me carefully as I took off my cloak and found my place at the table. Dinner was relatively silent. I think everyone could sense the tension because no one asked either of us how our day at Malfoy Manor went. Both Dad and I were too preoccupied with our long and painful discussion, and I know he was trying to sort things out in his mind. What could I say to my siblings or even to my pureblooded mother? She had been so supportive all these years, fighting so hard for equal rights for the Magically Challenged. To think that it was all a terrible mistake was almost too much to bear.

It didn’t help things that Freddy couldn’t stop talking about his upcoming tour of St. Mungo’s. He would tour every floor, every ward, talk to Chief Jude Rosen himself, have lunch with some of the top staff, all the while having Dad giving him advice about everything. What if I were a wizard? Would I be able to become a Healer, as I had always dreamed? But just because I might be a wizard didn’t mean I was powerful enough to go through Healer training. And plus, I would have a lot to learn before I could possibly entertain the faintest possibility of becoming a Healer.

I felt damaged somehow, cheated. I wondered if it was too late to start learning magic, that is, if I could control what Dad called my anxiety disorder. Was I one of his Incurables? I could feel the worry bubble up in my stomach again, and I fought to keep it back. Dinner was tasteless that night.

“I want you to come with me to St. Mungo’s tomorrow, George,” Dad said later, as I was brushing my teeth.

I didn’t respond, but just kept brushing. I couldn’t look at him. What I couldn’t understand was why I was so angry at him. It wasn’t his fault. No one thought I was a wizard, ever. No one had even considered the potential—since I was three years old, there was never a single sign or spark of magic, ever. How could Dad possibly know that I just might be a wizard after all?

“George?”

“Yeah, Dad, I’ll come,” I said glumly.

“We’ll sort this out,” he said. “I promise.”

Yeah right.

My gloominess continued on the next morning as Dad and I took off for St. Mungo's. We decided to take muggle transport—I think Dad was trying to buy some time. Plus, I think he wanted to give me some space to process what I was about to go through. The outcome of this examination could possibly change my entire life, which made me nervous all over again. If I were a wizard, then I would have to start learning how to channel my magic, but if I were still a Squib, then I would have to battle the crushing disappointment of not being a wizard. I didn’t know what to think or how to feel. It seemed better to talk about trivial things as we sat there on the Tube, waiting for our stop. We talked about the news and the weather and the sale at Gladrags and the new shipment of dittany that Dad had to ship back.

I always loved visiting Dad at work. When I was little, I imagined myself in Dad’s role, saving patients and making drastic decisions to save the world. It was exhilarating, and I used to beg him to take me to St. Mungo’s at every chance. But today was different—St. Mungo’s was the very last place in the wizarding world I wanted to go. I walked in there knowing I would be examined and questioned, studied like a lab rat. Sure it was for a good cause, for my own benefit, but I just couldn’t help but feel…deformed somehow. Most everyone at Dad’s work knew I was Magically Challenged, so the additional knowledge that I’ve got an anxiety disorder really bothered me. I felt so conspicuous, so…naked.

Dad took me up to the cafeteria—that was unexpected. After all, I had eaten a healthy breakfast already that morning, and so did Dad. The cafeteria was pretty busy at that time of the morning, a mixture of Healers and visitors and even a few patients populating the place. Smells of coffee and toast and bacon filled the room, putting me at ease. Dad ordered me some Earl Grey tea and a plate of scones and clotted cream for both of us. The tea was okay. The scones were amazing. I ate two before I ventured to ask what this was all in aid of.

“This,” Dad declared, pulling out a thin, red bottle from his jacket pocket. He handed it to me. “You know what this is?”

“I have no idea. Bubble juice?”

Dad smirked. “Very funny. Actually, it’s a variation of a potion commonly used here. That is, it used to be used here. I don’t allow much of it in my ward any more, but I have done a variation on it that is far less potent but extremely effective.”

“What’s it called?” I asked, now curious. I wondered why he wanted to give me a forbidden potion.

“Back before you were born,” Dad explained, eating a scone at the same time, “when I first started here, Healers in the Incurables ward used something called the Lethargis potion. Basically, it’s a powerful tranquiliser.”

That didn’t sound good. “You want to put me on a…on a tranquiliser?” I asked, now more nervous than before. Usually, raving maniacs took tranquilisers, not schoolboys.

“Not exactly, George,” Dad said. “I manipulated the potion to reduce its potency dramatically, and I also added ingredients that keep the patient alert.”

I was now a patient?

“The idea behind it,” Dad continued, “is to calm the nerves but not numb the brain. It took a lot of work to develop this, you know. Severus and I worked for over two years to get this right.”

“So you…think this will work for me?” I asked hesitantly.

Dad nodded. “In very small quantities, yes, I do.”

I picked up the bottle and looked at it carefully. It felt cold in my shaking hand. It felt like…like death. “So when I take this, what will happen to me? Will it make me sleepy? I can’t afford to be sleepy right now, Dad. I’ve got…”

“It won’t make you sleepy, George,” Dad said, cutting across me. “If you take the proper dosage, it will just calm your nerves down a couple of notches. The base ingredient is passiflora incarnrata.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a well known sedative—even muggles use it,” Dad explained eagerly. He always got a little excited when it came to potions. “I took the Lethargis potion and made it the minor ingredient, changing the potency by using the passiflora base.”

None of it made much sense. My knowledge of potions was pretty limited, considering my condition, and when Dad started on all that stuff, my mind sort of shut down a little. But this time, I knew this very important—if I were to take this potion, I wanted to know everything possible!


	10. George the Lab Rat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He talked at me for what seemed like a very long time. Potions ingredients, physiological terms, side effects—none of it made much sense. It wasn’t that I didn’t understand or that I was uninterested. I think I was just overwhelmed._
> 
> _And then it struck me._
> 
> _What would happen to me if I did start to take that potion? If it worked and helped me access magic, then what?_

He talked at me for what seemed like a very long time. Potions ingredients, physiological terms, side effects—none of it made much sense. It wasn’t that I didn’t understand or that I was uninterested. I think I was just overwhelmed.

And then it struck me.

What would happen to me if I did start to take that potion? If it worked and helped me access magic, then what? I only had two and a half years of school left, and it seemed foolish to start on magic at this point. Sure, Dad started magic at age sixteen, but he’s a really powerful wizard. For him, magic is easy. Once he learned how to control it and channel it, he could do just about anything with it, and at a very young age.

But I’m not my father. I wish I were my father, but I’m not. I’m not even close. When you’re a Squib and you grow up with the likes of Nigel Chaucer as your father, it’s a tough thing. There was never a time in my life when I didn’t measure myself against him, and as I became more and more anxious and nervous, the comparisons became more intense and more unreasonable. I wish I could have just sat back and let things be. I still do. But like Dad, it’s not in my nature to sit back and let things happen. I’m more like him than either of us ever thought.

I had second thoughts about this whole enterprise. Maybe I could make it as a Squib. Maybe I could aspire to something great in the wizarding world, without magic. Maybe I had it all wrong about myself from the start. Taking a potion just seemed so drastic. It wasn’t like I was unbalanced or anything. OK, so I had a problem with anxiety—I could accept that—but did that mean I needed to change my entire life so dramatically and so suddenly? Dad sensed my hesitation.

“I suppose you’re worried about the consequences,” he said.

I looked away, embarrassed. “I want it, Dad,” I said, half telling the truth. “But…it’s just a little...I don’t know.”

“You’re worried about it not working?” he asked.

“I’m worried that it will work,” I confessed.

Dad nodded. He pocketed the bottle of potion and smiled. “Look, George, I don’t want to push you into this, I mean, I don’t know if it will even work.”

“No, Dad, it’s…”

“Listen, George,” Dad said. “You know that no matter what…”

But I stopped him. “I know, Dad. Look, can I have a couple of days to think about this?”

Dad placed a warm hand on mine. “Sure, kid. Take whatever time you need.”

* * * * *

The new year came and went, and I still hadn’t made any decisions. So many things went through my mind in those days, mostly irrational worries and terrors. I considered confiding in Ellie—after all, my decision could impact her, should we remain together. In fact, if I did take that potion and it did work and I was able to use magic on a regular basis, my entire life would change in dramatic ways. 

But what about the possibility of becoming a muggle doctor? I could do it. Sure, I was behind on my studies, but I’m clever. I could catch up pretty easily. As exciting as the thought was to me, it also made me sick with grief. I didn’t want to leave the wizarding world—I had a right to be in the wizarding world! Same old conflict.

This potion could change everything. Who knew? Maybe it could help me become a Healer. I had to talk to someone, and soon. I was returning to Hogwarts in a very short while and I felt like I needed to make some sort of commitment, one way or another. There were so many questions I needed to consider, and I didn’t know where to start.

Two days before our return to school, Freddy and I went to the Quidditch match—England vs. Macedonia—lugging with us a ton of snacks, fizzy drinks, sweets, all sorts of stuff. Mum made us wear our Weasley sweaters—we presumed for warmth—plus hats and scarves and long johns under our jeans.

I love going to Quidditch matches. Mum used to write about Quidditch, before she started on politics and the like. But even after she stopped writing about sport, she always had connections in the Quidditch world, so that at any time of the year, we could go to the match of our choice. Quitdditch at Hogwarts is pretty good, but it’s nothing to professional Quidditch. You’ll just have to trust me on that one. It’s all about the crowd, the excitement, the Quidditch! I know I can be a bit of a dork, but I really do like sport. I get that from Mum—the whole Weasley family are Quidditch players, and bloody good ones, too. 

Dad is more into muggle sport—he says he never quite lost his love for football or rugby. I went to a rugby match with him a few times when I was younger—actually, it was pretty cool. Violent, but cool. Mum refuses to watch rugby with Dad. She says it’s because it’s too violent, but I think it’s because it’s muggle. I know my mother isn’t generally anti-muggle or anything, but like most people in my world, anything remotely muggle is automatically dismissed as inferior or crude.

That worried me even more, now that I faced a pretty major decision in my life. Whichever route I chose would change my current situation drastically. As we sat and waited for the Quidditch match to start, Freddy noticed my unrest.

“You’re quiet,” he said. He handed me a tuna sandwich and took one for himself.

“Lots on my mind, I guess,” I replied. The sandwich tasted good—I wondered who made it. Maybe Lydia. She’s like Grandma Weasley, a real genius around the kitchen.

“Worried about exams?”

“Sort of.” It was hard for me to find the words. “It’s just…I don’t know whether I should take the exams.”

Freddy frowned. “That’s ridiculous, George. You have to take exams! You can’t take NEWT level courses without OWL results.”

“Remember that day I broke my ankle?”

“You mean on your birthday?”

“Remember that man who helped me? Dr. Owen?”

Freddy looked at me curiously. “What about him?”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “He wanted to know what I was studying at school.”

“You didn’t tell him, did you?” Freddy snapped.

“No! Just about maths! But he said I should be taking science and biology and chemistry if…” I paused, bracing myself for what I was about to say. “If I am to study to become a muggle doctor.”

“WHAT?” Freddy bellowed. “George, are you out of your mind?”

“Well if I can’t be a Healer, at least I can be a doctor, right? Dad would have become a doctor if he’d still been a muggle!” I shouted back defencively.

“George, that’s crazy!”

I thought about that potion Dad wanted to give me…the one used for crazy people. I wanted to shout back at him, maybe punch him on the nose again. “I’m not crazy, Freddy,” I said mournfully. I sighed heavily.

Freddy’s face fell. “I know you’re not, mate.”

“Dad wants me to take a potion to calm me down and help me stop worrying so much,” I confessed. “He said I might even be able to use magic.”

“That’s great! That’ll help you, right?”

I nodded. I took another bite of my sandwich. That one didn’t taste as good. “Yeah, I suppose.”

“So what’s the problem?” Freddy asked. He had forgotten all about his sandwich. “You do want to use magic, don’t you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I want.”

“You can do anything you set your mind to, George. You know that, right?”

“But I can’t! The one thing I want I can’t have!”

“I…”

“I don’t begrudge you, Freddy. You deserve to be a Healer. I want you to be a Healer, for both of us! But even if I take Dad’s potion, there’s no guarantee that I can ever use enough magic to make it as a Healer. I might still be a Squib, regardless of anxiety or worry.”

Freddy bit his lip. “But you won’t know unless you take the potion.”

I knew that, of course.

But Freddy wasn’t done. “George, you can’t do this,” he said, more forcefully than I expected. “You can’t leaving the wizarding world! You’ve got to let Dad try to help you!”

“I…”

“George, I know you’re not a wizard, but you’re not a muggle either and if you just leave us all and try to be a muggle you’re going to just get really hurt!”

“I’m not leaving anyone, Freddy. You’re exaggerating!”

“But you’ll go to muggle schools and hang out with muggles and then you’ll forget all about our world because you hate it so much!” He was almost shouting.

Whoa! What was going on with the word “hate”? Who did Freddy think he was? “Wait a second!” I shot back. Now I was almost shouting. “I don’t hate our world, Freddy! But you don’t get it! You have no idea how it is for me, but that doesn’t mean I hate our world!”

“How can you possibly love it?” Freddy asked.

“What are you talking about?” I demanded, getting even angrier. “You and Mum and Dad and all our family and friends are a part of our world! I don’t know any other world!”

“But that’s my point!” Freddy said. “You don’t belong in the muggle world! This is foolishness, George. You’ve got to let Dad try his potion on you. Please!”

For a second, I thought Freddy would cry. It was a strange moment for me. Don’t get me wrong—Freddy and I generally get along really well, despite our differences. But this was strange. It was as though he was trying to understand my situation but trying to interfere with my ability to make a decision. In short, he was trying to guilt me out.

“Hang on a second, Freddy! I don’t know…”

But Freddy cut across me. “You won’t know until you try! George, you’ve got to take this potion!” He was almost crying at that point—Freddy never got like that, at least as far as I could recall. I was stunned and outraged and troubled by the whole thing.

“I don’t have to do anything!” I roared. When I saw Freddy recoil in confusion and grief, I stopped. “Freddy, I’m sorry,”

“No, George, I’m sorry.” He hung his head. “Look, mate, I just don’t want to lose you. I…love you.”

How could I respond to such an outpouring? I could feel a powerful surge of emotion course through my body and soul. I suddenly felt so guilty, as if I were betraying my heritage or something. What made me feel so bloody gobsmacked was Freddy’s accusation that I hated our world. I didn’t hate it! Why Freddy couldn’t understand that really bothered me, but it also made me think about what I was doing.

To be honest, I didn’t know any more.

I didn’t want to leave my roots behind, and I had to wonder whether I would have to if I did become a doctor. What if I took Dad’s potion and it didn’t make a difference? OK, so I’d be a calm Squib and not a nervous one, but so what? A Squib is still a Squib—that’s my reality. Could that change? I don’t know. And if Dad’s potion does activate some magic in me, then what?

I don’t know the score of the Quidditch match that day.

* * * * *

We apparated home—I held onto Freddy’s arm as we went. I haven’t apparated often in my life—normally, I travel by Floo Powder or occasionally by Portkey, that is, when I do have to travel. Anyway, we landed in the same alleyway where Dad fixed my ankle, and walked home. Freddy jabbered on the entire time. In a way, it was comforting to listen to my brother go on about all the moves we saw and his favourite players and the biggest moment in the match. I barely spoke a word, letting his running commentary wash over me like purifying waters.

My spirits lifted by the time we got home, greeted by Will, covered in chocolate, and Mum, whose robes were splattered with chocolate.

“Looks like we missed a party!” Freddy crowed. He gathered Will in his arms and tickled him. Will giggled and squirmed.

“First attempt at chocolate cake,” Mum said, a bit mournfully. “Who won the match?”

“England,” Freddy reported. “240 to 70. It was as if Macedonia barely showed up! It took the Seeker forever to catch that stupid Snitch!”

“You enjoy the match?” Mum asked me.

“George didn’t watch the match,” Freddy joked. “Too busy pondering the intricacies of the universe!”

I hated it when Freddy got like that. I knew he was just kidding around, but I don’t think he really understood what I was going through. It was just too much pressure all at once. Here we were, set to return to school in just two days and all I could think about was that my life would never be the same ever again.

The day before we left, I returned with Dad to St. Mungo's. I had made my decision and chosen to give the potion a try, come what may. What could it hurt, after all? If I remained a Squib, then at least I would be more easy-going, and if I really was a wizard, then I could give myself time at school to learn all the magic I should have been learning for the last five years.

Who am I kidding? I was scared to death.

But Freddy’s worries had chastened me. I was reckless—I admit it. What was I thinking? I had only spoken to Dr. Owen for a few minutes, but there I was, ready to throw away everything to follow someone else’s dream! Walking into St. Mungo's that morning only increased my fears, but it also solidified my resolve to overcome those fears and really try to help myself.

We sat in the examination room while Dad sat at his desk, writing and writing all sorts of notes—or so it looked. I wondered what he was writing.

“It’s a bit of a history,” Dad said. He must have been using Legilimency on me. Dad’s quite good at that. “Don’t worry, George. It’s just a few notes on your general health. Now then,” he said, standing up. He took out the bottle of potion and handed it to me. “I’m going to start you on the lowest possible dosage. One drop in the morning, one for lunch, one for supper and one just before bed. I don’t want to give you too much at first.”

“Are there side effects?” I asked.

“Probably you’ll feel pretty sleepy the first couple of weeks. You’ll need to fight against that and do your best to stay awake and alert, until your body adjusts to the potion.”

“And when can I do magic?”

Dad paused. “We’ll see about that. You know there are no guarantees, right?”

“I know, Dad.”

“Look, either way, it should help you with your anxiety, right?”

Right. Keep me medicated and maybe I won’t accidentally apparate to some strange place. Is that cynical? Perhaps.

“So here’s how it works.” Dad conjured a cup of tea and opened the bottle of potion. The inside of the cap was long and pointy. I watched as Dad let a single drop of the potion fall into the tea. He quickly recapped the potion and pushed the teacup to me. “Drink up,” he said brightly.

I did. Thankfully, the potion had no flavour, or at least one that was so slight that I couldn’t detect it.

“Now what?” I asked. “I don’t feel anything.”

“I put you on the very lightest possible dosage, just to start you off.”

“You already said that.”

Dad reddened. “Did I? Anyway, you’ll get used to it, and I think that you’ll see a difference in a couple of days. If you need more, we’ll talk about that, but it’s enough just to take the edge off.”

I nodded nonchalantly, wondering and hoping. I began to wonder if I should tell Ellie that I’m taking a potion—would she still like me? Would I fall asleep on our dates because of the potion’s effects? Would I fall asleep in classes? Would I fall out of my desk? OK OK, this is supposed to stop me from worrying. Did Dad give me enough?

When I went to bed that night, having taken the potion once again, I snuggled down under my warm duvet and prayed—for strength, for hope, for peace. The sky was quiet and dark and comfortable that night as I gently shut my eyes and drifted off to dreamless sleep…


	11. Success?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Tom held the vase before us, and then let it go. It smashed to the floor. Tom looked at the shards as if he were gazing upon some precious monument or natural wonder. “OK, George, now fix it!”_
> 
> _“Fix it?”_
> 
> _“Fix it! Go on, you’ve done vases before. It’ll be a snap! You know the incantation.” Tom could be really pushy when he wanted to._
> 
> _His wand felt strange in my hand, as if I had no right even to touch it. It was heavier than I expected, but the silver handle felt strong and solid in my hand. I shook just a little, having no idea whether this would work._

Hogwarts never changes. OK, it does, but not really. Teachers may come and go, and occasionally a Squib like me gets to take classes there, but there’s something about the school that seems beyond time. I don’t know if it’s because it’s a castle or because of places like the Silver Cave. Hogwarts has a spirit about it that leaves an indelible mark on you. I know that sounds awfully religious and all, and I don’t mean to insult any religion by saying this. But whenever I return to Hogwarts, I get sort of overwhelmed by something that’s far greater than myself.

Armed with my Lethargis potion, I hoped to have a better, less frazzled term. Who knew? I might just be able to perform a little magic. Nick and Aidan had already told Ellie all about my surprise visit the night of my birthday, and we all wondered what else I might be able to do.

“Your poor feet,” Ellie said, giving my arm a squeeze. 

We all sat together at the Gryffindor table eating treacle tart. My friends watched with lurid fascination as I opened the bottle of potion at the start of dinner and put a single drop into my pumpkin juice.

“What happens if you do two drops on accident?” Theo asked, crinkling his nose.

“I’ll probably have a really good nap!” I replied. Theo laughed, but Ellie didn’t.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked, concerned. “Aren’t you too young to be taking that stuff?”

“That’s why I take just a little,” I said. “My father knows what he’s doing, and so do I! Don’t worry!” I laughed at the irony. Maybe the potion was working. It was a strange moment, where for once, I wasn’t the one filled with stomach-churning anxiety. Actually, it felt sort of nice, sort of freeing. I could get used to this.

“How does it taste?” Theo asked.

“It doesn’t have a flavour, as far as I can detect.”

“Are you tired?” Aidan asked.

“Not really. Just…calm.”

Ellie kissed me on the cheek. “Say,” she whispered in my ear, “you’re not too calm to go to our favourite place, are you?”

That piqued my interest. “No! I’m in perfect shape!”

Theo laughed. “Just don’t let your cousin catch you out of bounds, Chaucer. He won’t care who you are!”

“He’s quite right,” a silky, resonant voice said behind us. We all jumped as Cousin Severus…that is, Professor Snape, placed a talon-like grip on my shoulder. “In fact, Mr. Weasley-Chaucer, I need to see you in my office straightaway.” He let go of me and swept away, heading briskly towards the door of the Great Hall.lar

“Shit,” I groused. “Later, all.” With that, I scrambled to my feet and took off, in the shadow of my cousin. About ten different scenarios ran through my head as I dashed to his office—this, actually, was an improvement. Before I was taking Lethargis, a hundred different scenarios would have gone through my overly frazzled mind. I could handle ten.

When I reached the door to Cousin Severus’ office, I paused. What was the password? My mind blanked as I struggled to remember it. But then the door opened with a snap, and the stone gargoyles leaped apart.

“Are you coming, Chaucer or are you going stand there for the rest of the day?” he snarled. What was up with him? Sometimes, I just couldn’t figure him out. Actually, most of the time.

“Sorry,” I said, following him inside.

“Sit,” he replied, pointing to the hard chair in front of the massive, black desk.

I sat. “Is this about…”

“I spoke to your father today,” he said. “He told me about the potion you are taking for anxiety.”

I couldn’t help but frown. Why did Dad have to tell Cousin Severus? “Why did…”

“Because it is my business to know, as Headmaster, as family, and as someone who can be of assistance to you.”

“Assistance?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

Cousin Severus narrowed his eyes. “Your father explained your situation to me, including your accidental apparation. He asked me to manage your progress.”

My mouth went dry. “What…does that mean?”

Cousin Severus sat behind his desk and pulled out a rather large roll of parchment, already filled with carefully arranged notes. I wondered what they were all about—just how much had Dad said about me?

“It means that you will meet with me in this office once a month, where we will discuss your anxiety level and discern any magical potential,” he said stiffly.

Discern any magical potential? What sort of language was that? Why couldn’t Cousin Severus talk like normal people? All I could do was nod stupidly. Cousin Severus had that effect on me a lot—I really needed a dosage of Lethargis just about then.

“OK,” was all I could get out.

* * * * *

The week passed without incident, and without magic. The best thing about it was that I slept really well. What’s more, I didn’t fall asleep in any of my classes. My confidence grew just a little, and that made me happy.

Ellie made me happy, too.

But she puzzled me a little, too. Her apprehension about the potion was understandable at first, but as the week progressed, I sensed that her attitude had changed a bit. I don’t think I was being paranoid, either. When we spent time alone together, for example…I don’t know…she felt more…distant. I wasn’t sure what was going on. It could be that our time apart during the holiday had changed her somehow, but on the other hand, we were close enough on my birthday. Did she fear the change that might happen to me? Who was anxious now?

Theo, however, was beyond excited by the prospect that I might actually be a wizard and not Magically Challenged. He wanted to know everything, almost every minute of the day. How did I feel? Does magic prickle? Did my chest feel hot? Did it give me headaches? Honestly, I had no idea what he was talking about. Besides feeling far less anxious than usual, I felt about the same. Was that a bad sign? I didn’t really know.

But Ellie? She really never asked me any questions about the potion or how I felt or anything much at all. Mostly, she kept the conversation light, focusing on school or on friends or silly jokes, but that was about it. It was as if we were just starting out together, like we had somehow become relative strangers in the space of a week. I didn’t get it. Plus, I had to wonder about her a little. For as long as I’d known Ellie, she was always a witch and I…well, was just a Squib. Granted, I might still be a Squib, but all the potential lay before me that I just might not be what everyone thought I was. Did that threaten her somehow? Was there a dimension to Ellie Grey that I hadn’t known before? The prospect disturbed me. It also annoyed me more than I let on. I don’t know, I mean, maybe I was being unfair to her.

One Friday night, about three weeks later, Freddy and I sat with Tom and Aurora in the Common Room, warming ourselves by the crackling fire. I was supposed to be out with Ellie that night, romping about in the Silver Cave like we used to first term, but Ellie had a stomachache and she was feeling really stressed out by so much homework from Professor Binns, and all she wanted to do was take a hot bath and go to bed.

“Tough night,” Freddy noted sympathetically.

“Maybe she really is sick,” Tom offered. “She did look a little green at dinner. Isn’t the flu going around right now?”

“I don’t know,” I said glumly. “Maybe.”

“I don’t get her,” Tom said sharply. “What’s her deal these days?”

I didn’t want to think bad things about Ellie. After all, I hadn’t really talked to her about it. It seemed a little rash to make such a snap judgement about her before we had really discussed the situation. Still…

“Maybe she doesn’t want to share the magic,” Freddy said bitterly.

“I don’t know if I even have any magic!” I retorted.

Freddy grinned. “Let’s give it a go!”

Tom jumped up and grabbed his wand off the floor, thrusting it at me. Then, he looked around for something…to break?

“Ah, here we go!” he crowed happily, picking up a pale green ceramic vase. He held it before us, and then let it go. It smashed to the floor. Tom looked at the shards as if he were gazing upon some precious monument or natural wonder. “OK, George, now fix it!”

“Fix it?”

“Fix it! Go on, you’ve done vases before. It’ll be a snap! You know the incantation.” Tom could be really pushy when he wanted to.

His wand felt strange in my hand, as if I had no right even to touch it. It was heavier than I expected, but the silver handle felt strong and solid in my hand. I shook just a little, having no idea whether this would work.

“Take a deep breath,” Freddy coached, sounding a lot like Dad just then. “Let your breath fill you up, then let it out slowly.”

Together, the three of us breathed slowly and deeply whilst Aurora looked on in amusement. She sniggered at the three of us, sitting there doing all this heavy breathing.

“Alright, George, whenever you’re ready,” Freddy said.

I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply once again, working to calm my quaking nerves. I pictured the vase in my mind, resting on the shelf by the window, just as it had for the last ten years. I lifted Tom’s wand, and with a flick, said, “Reparo!”

Nothing.

“Try it again,” Tom said. “No one gets it the first time.”

“Don’t flick the wand so hard,” Aurora said. “Go a little lighter on it.”

I nodded and refocused. Again, I raised the wand, and with a lighter flick, said, “Reparo!”

Nothing. Granted, the shards did move a bit, so that was something. And the tip of the wand did give off a light glow. I decided to move a little closer. OK, a lot closer. Once again, with a flick, “Reparo!”

The shaft of light that flew out of the wand engulfed the shards of the broken vase, bringing them mercifully together—all except for one little shard from the middle of the vase. Strange. Everyone cheered and clapped and hugged me and each other. I couldn’t believe it! I did magic, and not by accident this time! I willed it to happen, and it did!

“You did it!” Freddy exclaimed, crushing me with one of his bear hugs. Tom jumped on both of us, and we all fell to the floor, laughing.

What a night!

* * * * *

“Congratulations!”

“Way to go!”

“I always knew you had it in you, George!”

The string of congratulatory comments that met me the next morning as I made my way down to the Great Hall for breakfast was stunning and a little troubling. No doubt Tom or Aurora or even Freddy had blabbed about my little triumph, making me extremely self-conscious. I wasn’t so sure it was time to start bragging just yet. After all, I had repaired only one vase, and I was standing right over it. You may as well have handed me a glue gun or something!

Yet I found myself standing just a little taller that morning, holding my head a bit higher than I had in previous months. I wanted to think I really was a wizard, and so for the rest of the morning, I acted as if I really was a wizard, without a doubt.

Leave it to Cousin Severus to burst my proverbial bubble.

After my Maths class late that morning, Theo, Nick and I headed for the Great Hall for lunch, hoping to catch up with Ellie and Althea.

I never made it.

“Mister Weasley-Chaucer,” came Cousin Severus’ icy voice behind me.

I stopped dead in my tracks and turned slowly to face him. His hair had turned a bit grey in these last couple of years, making his face paler than before. Cousin Severus glared at me with such a piercing stare I thought it might topple me over.

“Uh, yes, sir?” I asked with trepidation.

“My office. Now.”

“Yes, sir,” I droned. “See you guys later,” I said to Theo and Nick. I could hear them whisper behind me as I left.

Didn’t we just do this? How many more times was I going to have to scramble after him, snaking our way up and over to his offices? I was really hungry, actually, and my favourite lunch—hamburgers and chips—was being served. The delicious smells of hamburgers wafted through the air, growing fainter as I traveled farther from my friends in the Great Hall. I hoped Theo would save me a burger.

Inside Cousin Severus’ office, I once again sat in that hard chair, but instead of sitting behind the desk, Cousin Severus pulled up an ottoman and sat right next to me, looking a little up at me. It felt strange that he was doing that. Why so close? And why was he sitting lower than I? I felt like he was examining me or even using Legilimency on me, discerning what my newly magical mind was up to.

“Rumour has it that you are a wizard,” he said.

“Oh, well I don’t about that yet, sir,” I replied shakily.

“Your brother tells me you repaired a vase. Is that the truth?”

“Well yes, but…”

“Did your parents ever purchase a wand for you?”

A wand? “Well no, I mean, what can a Squib do with a wand?”

“Do not use that word in my hearing, Chaucer!” Cousin Severus snapped. But then he cooled off. “Furthermore, you may very well not be Magically Challenged. How long have been practicing spells with your brother’s wand?”

“Just last night. But it didn’t work straight away! I swear! I practically had to glue it together myself, manually!”

Cousin Severus did not laugh at my attempt to lighten the mood.

“You will send an owl to your mother and father and have them purchase a wand for you. You will need it this term. Furthermore, I shall adjust your schedule accordingly.”

“Accordingly?” What was he doing?

“To adjust to your new needs,” Cousin Severus replied simply.

“But hang on, sir, I mean, I’ve got exams in June and…”

“I am well aware of your schedule, Chaucer. Your schedule, however, will have to change.”

“But what about my exams? They’re my exams, sir! It’s my choice whether to sit them or not!” I snapped.

Cousin Severus frowned. “Those exams are now irrelevant to you.”

“You don’t know that, Cousin Severus!” I exclaimed, forgetting who I was talking to. “What if it’s all a fluke? How am I supposed to pass my exams if I drop the subjects a term before?”

Cousin Severus now stood up, towering over me, as if to assert his authority and superiority. “Do not be short-sighted as your father once was.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Cousin Severus gave me such a fierce glare that I immediately changed my mind.

“Naturally, your situation is quite different from your father’s,” he continued, now pacing a bit. “He grew up as a muggle and had to change his entire way of life. It will not be so drastic for you, thankfully.”

“But don’t you think I should try magic a few more times, just to make sure?” I suggested.

Cousin Severus pondered for a moment, folding his arms across his chest. “Alright then. Have it your way.” He took out his wand and handed it to me, then pointed to the quill on his desk. “Levitate it.”

“Levitate it?”

“You know the incantation, do you not?”

“ _Wingardium leviosa_ , right?”

“Precisely. Well?”

I remembered Freddy’s instructions last night. Breathe. Relax. Relax. Relax. OK, I was ready. I pointed the wand straight at the quill. Swish and flick. “Wingardium leviosa!” I said firmly. A little spark came out of the wand, but that was about it.

“A spark is good,” Cousin Severus noted. “Do it again.”

I nodded, more determined this time. Swish and flick. “Wingardium leviosa!” Another spark, but no floating quill. I tried it three, four, seven times, and no floating quill.

“You need your own wand,” Cousin Severus noted.

“I’m just too far away from the quill,” I suggested.

“You are not. You need your own wand. The wand and the wizard are closely tied together, and you never get the same results from someone else’s, no matter how powerful it might be,” he explained.

* * * * *

_Dear Mum and Dad,  
How’s everything? All is well here at school._

_The other day, I was able to do some magic, just like we all hoped! Well, Cousin Severus found out and now he says I need to have my own wand so I can practice more. I don’t know what’s involved with purchasing a wand and I don’t know how much it is, but he wants me to have one as soon as possible. I hope this doesn’t cause any problem for you._

_Freddy, Tom and Lydia are all well, and we’re all studying hard to pass our exams. See you soon!_

_Love,  
George_

* * * * *

_George,  
This is an extraordinary development! Your father and I will come for a little visit tomorrow so we can take you wand shopping personally. It’s the sort of thing you can’t really purchase by owl post. I’m so proud of you, dear!_

_Tell Freddy to sharpen his quills, and tell Tom to watch it on that skateboard._

_Much love,  
Mum_


	12. George's New Wand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Working specifically on magic with a formidable witch like Minerva McGonagall is an honour and a challenge. All my life I had heard about how easy it had been for Dad when he had to learn magic at my age. OK, so he made a few mistakes when he first started, but he picked it up incredibly fast—everyone says he’s the greatest wizard since the legendary Albus Dumbledore. What scares me sometimes is the idea that I have to meet the same standard. I know that’s totally unreasonable and that I’m putting too much pressure on myself, but then again, that’s just how I am, potion or no potion._

“George! My baby!”

Mum nearly threw herself at me when she caught sight of me in the Entrance Hall. At the very same time, naturally, the Hall was packed with students going in and out of the Great Hall for the morning break. I heard a Seventh Year Hufflepuff girl say to her friend, “Oh, that’s so cute!” as they passed us by, giggling all the way. Dad had stopped a few feet away to talk to a group of very eager Second and Third Year boys of all Houses. One very little Ravenclaw boy looked so excited to meet The Great Nigel Chaucer that I was certain he would dampen his trousers. Even a couple of Sixth Year girls threw Dad flirtatious looks. I blushed hotly.

Dad’s a bit of a wizarding legend. Like Harry Potter, Dad had a reputation for being a great hero and a unifier, something that went back to his old days both as a student here at Hogwarts and during his brief stint as a Ministry official. Grandpa Weasley always told us the tale of Dad’s exploits, arresting dark wizards, making potions discoveries, unifying the Hogwarts Houses. Apparently there was a time when Gryffindors and Slytherins hated each other, but that just seems odd to me. Some of my best friends are in Gryffindor. I guess I’m lucky to live in an age of peace and tolerance.

Well, both my parents are my heroes to me, no matter what anyone else thinks or says. I reckon that if they could raise the five of us kids and have us all turn out pretty spiffing, then that’s all the heroism that matters to me.

After Mum had covered me with hugs and kisses and stroked my hair practically out of my head, Dad joined us, grinning from ear to ear.

“So, here you are!” he said brightly, giving me a big hug. He stepped back and looked me over. “Well, you look about the same.”

“I feel about the same,” I replied. “I’m fine!”

“Bloody right you are!” Mum crowed. “This is such a great moment, George! I’m so excited!”

Together, the three of us made our way upstairs to Cousin Severus’ office. I was getting sick of that place, to be honest. And it didn’t really make a difference that my parents were with me this time. In fact, it was worse that way, because they would likely start on some lengthy conversation about all my comings and goings and attempts at spells and my diet and my sleep pattern and so on.

They did not disappoint. I sat on that same, hard chair and listened whilst I was the topic of a very long and detailed discussion. Cousin Severus answered all sorts of questions that they should have asked me.

“He eats so much the school is going bankrupt.”

“No teacher has ever complained about him being late.”

“I hear he’s first up in the morning and one of the first to bed at night, unlike last term when he spent half the night in the common room.”

On and on they went, turning me into an issue. I knew they meant well and had my best interests at heart, but frankly, I wanted to get away and just go shopping for that wand.

An hour later, we were out the gates and heading to St. Luke, for a quick visit to my Chaucer grandparents. It’s always nice to see them, though I wish I got to see them more often. Though they live just a short distance from Hogwarts, I rarely get to go for a visit, except on Hogsmeade weekends, and even on those days, it’s usually a quick hello before I dash off with my friends. More affection, more kisses and hugs.

As much as I loved seeing them again, I was excited to get on our way to London to buy the wand! I had no idea what to expect, and it seemed like Mum and Dad were keeping pretty quiet about the whole enterprise. I just hoped that if we visited anyone else, we’d do it after I got my wand. Our arrival at Diagon Alley couldn’t have come any sooner! It took all the self control I had to keep myself from running the entire way to Ollivander’s Wand Shoppe.

The street was packed with people, shopping, running errands, rushing to work, going every which way. Most paused or even stopped at the sight of my father, and even at me. I had grown a little used to people doing double-takes when they saw me, thinking for a moment I was my father, considering how much we look alike. As we passed Flourish and Blott’s, I spotted a book in the display window that I knew Ellie would love.

“Can we stop in there on our way back?” I asked Mum.

“Sure,” she replied. She took my arm as we walked on towards my new wand.

Finally! We reached our destination! I’d never been to Ollivander’s before, though I had heard all about the place. For Squibs, a wand shop is an impossible dream. We sort of put it out of our minds as a sort of fictional fairyland with no real reference to reality. But here I was, ready to purchase my own wand! It was unbelievable!

The proprietor, a Mr. Jacob Ollivander, rushed to help us. He couldn’t have been much older than forty, but as he measured me and asked me all sorts of questions, I got the feeling that he knew what he was doing. It was nice to be spoken to and not spoken about for a change that day. After Mr. Ollivander was finished with his measurements, he disappeared into the back room of the shop for several minutes. I had no idea what he was doing, but I wished he would return with a wand.

After a long while, he re-emerged with an armload of boxes, each one containing a different wand. Apparently no wand was exactly the same, so I sort of had to try out each one until it became clear which one was mine. How Ollivander could figure that out was beyond me, but I trusted his judgement. The first wand, thirteen inches, yew, dragon heartstring core—I got nothing out of it, not even a spark! Too bad, though. I liked that one. The next wand was fourteen inches, oak, unicorn hair core—too heavy. It worked better than the first one, but it wasn’t great. When I tried to levitate the box, I set it on fire!

“No,” Ollivander said flatly, putting out the fire with a flick of his own wand. “Let’s try another.”

Rosewood, dragon hearstring. No.

Hawthorn, unicorn hair. No.

Holly, thirteen inches, dragon heartstring core. Not bad. Supple, a bit flexible. Nice. When I tried once again to levitate the box, to my utter shock, it worked! Mum let out a little yelp of glee. Dad almost cried.

“Beautiful, young Mr. Weasley-Chaucer! Beautiful!” Ollivander said. “But before you decide on that one, I have one more to show you which might just catch your interest.” He pulled out an elegant black box, inside of which rested the most amazing, intricately crafted wand I’d ever seen.

I picked it up, feeling a warmth surge within me. Was that magic or was that my quaking nerves? The wand was beautiful, a rich mahogany, with a dragon heartstring at the core. The handle felt solid and safe in my hand.

“Well go on,” Ollivander said impatiently. “Levitate this glass!”

With a wand like this, how could I fail? Swish and flick. “Wingardium leviosa!” And just like that, with no effort at all, the glass jumped high into the air, hovering as I tracked it with the wand. No one taught me to do this, but I’d witnessed my siblings do it so often, I felt like I could do just about anything.

Mum and Dad burst into wild applause, tears streaming down their faces. Unfortunately, that distracted me, and the next thing I knew, the glass smashed to the floor. I jumped back about five feet, startled and embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry,” I groaned. “I got distracted and…”

Mr. Ollivander didn’t seem too upset. “Go on and fix it, boy.”

Oh yeah. I’m such an idiot! A quick _Reparo_ should do the trick. I pointed the wand at the shattered remains, hoping it wasn’t too broken. Was that possible? I supposed so. Anyway, “Reparo!” I said authoritatively. For a second, the shards waggled a bit, but then, they came together, though a bit roughly. Certainly, the glass was no longer usable, but at least it wasn’t in pieces.

Nobody’s perfect.

* * * * *

“Let’s see it!”

“Come on, George! Show us your wand!”

“Yeah! Come on, let’s see how it works!”

“Cool!”

“Way to go, George!”

“Do a spell with it!”

So many people pressed around me in the Great Hall that I could barely breathe properly. Freddy sat close at my side, with Theo on my right, with Tom and Lydia directly behind me. Nick, Aidan, Althea and Aurora knelt on the bench across from me, leaning over the table to get a closer look. Abraxas stood behind them, leaning against them to see up close.

My wand looked so perfect and new and exquisite—I couldn’t keep my eyes off it, and I couldn’t stop smiling. And when I told everyone about the magic I had already done with it, Freddy gave me a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek. Lydia cried.

“We knew you were a wizard,” Abraxas said.

“That’s bullshit, Malfoy,” I shot back, laughing. “I got pegged as a Squi…as Magically Challenged from Day One.”

“Well anyway, we’re glad you’re okay,” Abraxas said.

That made me feel strange—was I not okay before? Are Squibs not okay? I decided not to respond to his comment, not wanting to start an argument at that point.

To my shock, Theo spoke up. “Yeah, George! Now that you’re not a worrywart anymore, we can all get some sleep!”

I laughed, both at his comment and because he had decided to take the high road and not get into it with Abraxas. I wondered where Ellie was. She was nowhere to be found when I got back home from London, but then again, with the throng of people around me just then, Ellie might have been anywhere.

“So what can you do, George?” someone asked.

I laughed again. “I can do lots of things,” I replied smoothly. “I can walk and talk and do maths equations and all sorts of things!”

“Go on, George!” Althea piped up. “Do some magic for us!”

Everyone around me started jabbering and yelling and laughing. But could I? In front of everyone? Well, there was only one way of finding out. I thought about how Freddy would do a certain incantation to change the colour of his parchment from white to blue. I hadn’t tried anything like that, and to be honest, I had no idea whether it was hard or easy.

“Mutatio pigmentum!” A pink shaft of light flew out of my wand, turning the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ on the table a bright shade of yellow. Everyone clapped and cheered. I couldn’t believe it got it on the first try! I guess what they all said about having your own wand really was true.

My day continued to improve the moment I spied Ellie out of the corner of my eye. She stood on the sidelines, looking on with a casual bemusement—I nearly dropped my wand.

“I…uh, I’ve got to go,” I said, attempting to stand up. Of course, about six people had to step back so I could get up, but when they saw my girlfriend by the long window, bathed in afternoon sunlight, they let me go.

Ellie took my hand and kissed me on the cheek—together, we walked off to find some quiet space of our own where we could reacquaint. We reacquainted, as it happened, for quite some time, late into the night…

The next morning, Ellie and I found each other quickly, snogged for a good half hour before breakfast, and then entered the Great Hall together, arms around each other. We joined Althea and some of Ellie’s wizard and witch friends over at the Gryffindor table. All I could focus on was Ellie’s soft hair and her soft lips and her sweet smell and the sound of her lovely voice—I hadn’t realised how much I missed her since I came back to school. She’d been so distant for such a long time, and I’d worried that she was ready to drop me altogether.

I looked around for Theo, Nick and Aidan, but didn’t see them anywhere. By the time they arrived for breakfast, Ellie and I were already done and halfway out of the Great Hall, accompanied by Althea and a couple of Gryffindor wizards. I wanted to stop and sit with my friends, but Ellie was already pulling me by the hand to come on. I managed a sort of half-wave to Aidan, but that was about it. She and I dashed out together, off for another snog before lessons.

My schedule had changed dramatically since I returned from London with my new wand. I would remain in my Maths, Philosophy, History and Herbology classes, but I also had to start catching up on four and half years of lost magic. My tutor for these lessons was Professor McGonagall, who had retired years ago but had kept her residence at the school. I had always liked Professor McGonagall—she’s a bit on the strict side, but she always tells these amazing stories of her younger days as a spy for the Ministry. She also told me a lot about my parents when they were at school. Apparently she had gotten to know my father very well during his one year as a student at Hogwarts.

One of the stories she told me was about his role in bringing down the Dark Lord Voldemort, about thirty years ago—thirty-two years, to be precise. Back in those days, Dad had become a conquering hero and a true leader of men and women. Nearly everyone in our world looked up to him because of his accomplishments. I can remember growing up and hearing all these people talking so reverently about Dad, but hearing the story from Professor McGonagall made it all the more real to me. And the fact that I look more and more like Dad as I get older makes people treat me a lot differently. I want to live up to my face, if that makes any sense.

Working specifically on magic with a formidable witch like Minerva McGonagall is an honour and a challenge. All my life I had heard about how easy it had been for Dad when he had to learn magic at my age. OK, so he made a few mistakes when he first started, but he picked it up incredibly fast—everyone says he’s the greatest wizard since the legendary Albus Dumbledore. What scares me sometimes is the idea that I have to meet the same standard. I know that’s totally unreasonable and that I’m putting too much pressure on myself, but then again, that’s just how I am, potion or no potion.

Life was changing pretty fast, and as I entered into my private lessons with Professor McGonagall, I started to wonder whether I might lose control of the situation. Things were going smoothly—maybe too smoothly. My progress in magic was lamentable, but my status had changed. No longer was I a Squib, a defective. I was a wizard, an equal, a peer. I had never been so confused and troubled in my life.


	13. Friends and Other Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _At dinner that night, I found Theo sitting with Nick and Aidan—when I sat down next to them, Nick and Aidan seemed happy to see me. Theo did not. In fact, he started to gather up his silverware and his plate, as if he were going to leave straight away._
> 
> _“What’s the rush?” I asked lightly._
> 
> _“Well I don’t think I’m worthy of being in your presence,” he sneered. Nick and Aidan threw each other very uncomfortable looks._
> 
> _“What the hell are you talking about, Theo?” I snapped._

Life was bliss. Totally amazing. It was like I had stepped into another world once I could do magic. Mind you, I was no genius when it came to spells and charms. In fact, I stunk at the whole business.

It was clear after a month that I was not my father’s son when it came to learning magic. Both my parents learned their magic incredibly fast, and were able to reach high levels of ability at very early ages. Freddy and Tom were just the same. Even Will could do some pretty cool stuff, and he was only four. OK, I was really good at Wingardium Leviosa and at Reparo, but that was about it. Switching spells? Forget it. Conjuring? No way.

I tried so hard. I had a few good days, but mostly, my magic was less than stellar. Professor McGonagall tried to be patient, but I could tell that my lack of progress was trying her nerves.

Things on the friend front were a different story. As the weeks passed and I became more and more engrossed in my new magical studies, I spent far more time with Ellie and with her witch and wizard friends. It started out as something practical—they had been doing magic for years, and I had a lot of questions about certain things. They usually laughed at my questions because they were so simple—to them at least. But to me, they were important. One day, for example, I asked what I thought was a really big question.

“So why is the wand movement such a big deal?” I asked.

The table exploded in laughter. Ellie, Althea, her sort of boyfriend Malachi, and a few of our other friends screeched and howled. My face turned beet red.

“What?” I asked.

“Oh my gods, George!” Althea sniggered. “Wand movement?”

“It’s a fair question,” I said defencively.

“I can’t believe you don’t know that!” Malachi crowed. 

I wasn’t too crazy about Malachi Zabini, but Althea was head over heels in love with him. OK, so he was devastatingly good looking—even most blokes admitted that—and he was at the top of the class. Typical Ravenclaw. And then there was all that wizard gold his family had. Malachi was first cousin to Dad’s old friend, Blaise Zabini—he came from the Italian side of the family—and he, like his cousin Blaise, had inherited the family’s fortune and perfect facial features. I was OK looking, but Malachi was…glorious. Althea was a bit young for him, but she didn’t let that stop her from trying.

Too bad he was a right prick sometimes.

He had this way of making me feel stupid, like just then, when he asked me that question, which was only intended to insult me. I don’t think he liked the fact that I was a Squib. Well, I wasn’t really a Squib…I just thought I was a Squib. I was a wizard all the time. That was a fact I wanted to make perfectly clear to Malachi, and to everyone.

“You don’t have to prove yourself to me, George,” Ellie said later, as we sat under a blanket together in the Silver Cave. “I know you’ve always been a wizard.”

“It’s not my fault that I didn’t know. Even my parents didn’t know.”

“It’s OK, George! The point is that you’re fine. No worries, no problems, no defects. You’re perfect.” She kissed me and rested her head against my shoulder.

I put my arm around her slender shoulders and sighed. She was right. I was OK. I was just fine. No problems or worries. No…defects.

Defects.

Is that was I was? Defective? I never felt defective. I felt limited and sort of cut off in a sense, but I never felt defective. I wondered what she meant by that.

“Ellie,” I asked, unsure if I wanted to hear the answer, “why did you say defects?”

She sighed languidly and kissed my cheek. “It doesn’t matter now,” she said smoothly.

I wondered about that. But for now, her kiss was so soft and her skin so sweet that I let her have her way and her say. I pulled her close and bathed her in kisses—we spent the rest of the night that way, so warm and intimate, so blissfully separated from the big bad world outside that glittering Silver Cave…

* * * * *

Malachi was in rare form the next morning, making us all laugh with his crazy jokes and impersonations. His impression of Professor Flitwick was perfect, and when he imitated Cousin Severus, I couldn’t help but laugh raucously. Even Althea laughed at that one. But soon—too soon—it was time to go. I gathered my books, ready for my Philosophy class. I spotted Theo sitting by himself at the Hufflepuff table, and I figured we could walk together to class.

In truth, I hadn’t spent much time with Theo, Nick and Aidan since I started magic lessons. So much had changed, and I had so many questions and had so much to learn. It wasn’t like I was rejecting my Squib friends or anything. I just needed different things. That was reasonable—after all, my life had suddenly and radically changed. I was making sense of it all, figuring out who I really was.

So when I plopped down next to Theo that morning, I received the shock of my life. Theo looked over at me as if I were a total stranger. I didn’t get it.

“Hey, mate,” I said brightly.

“Hey yourself,” Theo said, his voice cold and distant.

“Ready?”

“Ready? For what?” Theo asked.

“Class? Philosophy?” I tapped my books on the table. He was acting really strange.

“Oh yeah, I’ll be there. I’ll catch you up.”

I hesitated. “Don’t you…”

“You go on, be with your wizard friends,” Theo said. The tension in his voice made me feel terrible.

I should have stayed and talked to him, tried to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering him, but class was going to start any minute and I didn’t want to be late. I may have been on the Lethargis potion, but I still worried about being on time to class.

“Yeah, well, I guess I’ll see you in class. I’ll save you a seat.”

“I’ll probably be late. Don’t bother.”

Don’t bother? Don’t bloody bother? My stomach churned the entire way to class. I sensed what the problem was. I was neglectful. I had changed. I wasn’t around as much any more. OK, I wasn’t around at all. If I wasn’t with Ellie, I was with Malachi or Althea or some other witch or wizard. I didn’t mean to snub my Squib friends. I didn’t mean to snub anyone. Why couldn’t Theo see that, that I was going through an adjustment period? Didn’t he trust our friendship?

It only got worse after class. Theo arrived late, though only a couple of minutes late, and he sat in the back of the room, far away from me and Althea. I could feel him back there. The chill was unmistakable. After class was over, I went straight back to find Theo, thinking I would walk with him to break, but he had bolted from the room the second class was done. It was obvious he was avoiding me, and I knew exactly why. As the day passed, my anger grew and grew out of control.

Who did he think he was? We were supposed to be best friends, but the second my life changes, he just clams up and gives me the cold shoulder? I needed Theo more than ever, but he was apparently busy having a fit and making me feel like I had done something wrong! Stupid…git.

I was determined to talk to him, to tell him a thing or two. That was easier said than done, however. At dinner that night, I found Theo sitting with Nick and Aidan—when I sat down next to them, Nick and Aidan seemed happy to see me. Theo did not. In fact, he started to gather up his silverware and his plate, as if he were going to leave straight away.

“What’s the rush?” I asked lightly.

“Well I don’t think I’m worthy of being in your presence,” he sneered. Nick and Aidan threw each other very uncomfortable looks.

“What the hell are you talking about, Theo?” I snapped.

“Well you seem to be occupied with greater things these days,” he said sarcastically, putting the stress on the word _greater_. I wanted to slap him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

Theo stood up. “Well if you can’t figure it out, then there’s not a lot I can do for you, Chaucer.”

I jumped up and grabbed him by the arm. “Don’t just walk away, Theo,” I said dangerously. He jerked his arm away from me, but I grabbed him again. That was when Freddy and Abraxas headed our way, frowning.

“Get your hands off me!” Theo barked.

“Hey, what’s up, guys?” Freddy asked, trying to diffuse what was promising to be an explosive situation.

People were craning their necks to see what was going on. The teachers were looking, too. Cousin Severus’ eyebrows were knit so far together they looked like a single line across his forehead. But he didn’t make a move.

“Nothing, Freddy,” I replied. “Theo here is just being a prat!”

For a second, I thought Theo was going to hit me—thankfully, he didn’t. Freddy placed a hand on my shoulder, to calm me down.

“Look, guys, you’re friends, right?” Freddy started.

Theo raised an eyebrow. “Are we?”

Now Freddy was the one to get angry. “You know damn well that you guys are friends, Scrimgeour! Don’t give me that drama shit!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Theo snapped back. “You wizards are all alike!” And with that, he stormed off, leaving behind his plate, his silverware and his schoolbag.

I wanted to cry, but I didn’t. Instead, I looked to Freddy for guidance.

“What was that all about?” Freddy demanded.

“I don’t know!” I replied. That was a lie. I knew.

“Bullshit, George!” Freddy shot back fiercely. “You know damn well what that was about!”

“He’s just jealous, I guess,” I said. It was a terrible thing to say.

Freddy frowned. “And?”

I bit my lip. I had to be honest. “And I’ve been a shit to him?”

Freddy nodded. “And?”

“And I’m going to talk to him tonight?”

“How about now?”

“He needs to cool off,” I pointed out. “Am I a complete ass?” OK, I was asking for it when I asked Freddy that question.

But he surprised me. “Of course not, George,” he said sympathetically. “You’re the best man I know. But you’ve got to straighten this mess out with Theo.”

Unfortunately, Theo was impossible to find. I assumed he had returned to Ravenclaw, which meant that I had no access to him. But then it struck me. All I had to do was ask…

Ellie, Althea and Malachi sat together at the Ravenclaw table, chatting and laughing and finishing up a game of wizard chess. For the third time in a row, Althea beat Malachi, which delighted Ellie. When she caught sight of me, she threw her arms around me and kissed me, in spite of all the staring eyes all around us.

“Come on, sit!” Ellie chirped.

“Looks like you had a boring dinner, mate,” Malachi said with a smirk.

I shrugged. “It was OK.”

“I mean the company, not the food,” Malachi corrected me.

“The company was just fine,” I said firmly.

“Theo is OK, but those Jessups,” Malachi said grandly. He reminded me of Abraxas’ father when he got like that. It was really annoying. And offensive.

“What’s wrong with them?” I asked sharply.

“Well they’re not exactly our sort,” Malachi replied coolly.

Althea laughed. “Please, Malachi, you’re sounding like a pompous ass,” she said. Sometimes I really appreciated Althea’s boldness. She was just like her father—sometimes too bold.

“Hey, I’m just kidding you, mate,” Malachi laughed.

Yeah right. I paused, wondering if I should let his comment go or if I should press him for some clarification. There was enough of Dad’s confrontational personality in me forward. I sat up straight and squared my shoulders.

“So what do you mean by ‘our sort’?” I asked.

Malachi smirked, looking around devilishly for a moment. “Wizards, of course.”

“So last term, I wasn’t your sort, then?” I asked.

“Of course you were!” Malachi retorted. “We just didn’t know you were! See? It was fate that made us mates. You know that now, though, yeah?”

Althea rolled her eyes in derision, but Ellie didn’t. “Malachi, you’re so full of shit,” Althea sniped.

“That’s not what he means, though,” Ellie replied hotly.

“Are you kidding me?” Althea asked.

“That’s crap, Ellie,” I said. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with me before.”

“Oh come on, George!” Ellie replied defencively. “You had to be a wizard, I mean, look at your family! How could you not be? It just took a while to come out, but it did!”

“Even the best families have Magically Challenged members, Ells,” Althea pointed out. “My Dad says there are a lot on his mum’s side, and my Dad is a very powerful wizard. So why not George? His Dad was a muggle, for gods’ sake!”

“Yeah, but maybe he wasn’t,” Malachi suggested.

“No, Malachi,” I replied. “Dad was a muggle. Even the Magically Challenged can see Hogwarts, and Dad couldn’t until after his accident.”

Malachi waved his hand dismissively. “Either way, the point is that you’re the son of the most powerful wizard since Albus Dumbledore. Ellie had every reason to be attracted to you.”

This conversation was definitely not going as I had planned, and the longer I sat there, the angrier I grew. If I didn’t get out of there soon, I was at risk of saying something I would deeply regret.

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!” Althea snapped. “There’s a lot more to George than just being Nigel Chaucer’s son!”

“Well yeah, Thea, I know that,” Malachi said. “I mean, George is great! But come on, he’s like the golden child or something. Who cares whether he’s a Squib or whatever!”

“But you don’t hold the same standard for Nick and Aidan Jessup?” I asked.

“Their mum’s a pureblood,” Ellie pointed out.

“But the father’s less than half wizard,” Malachi said.

I remembered how kind and understanding Mr. Jessup was to me the day I accidentally apparated. What could I possibly say? I wondered whether Malachi was just being a jerk or if he was expressing what Ellie really thought about me. What bothered me the most was that Ellie wasn’t in any rush to contradict him.

“So what about it, Ellie?” I asked, feeling bold. “Why did you start going out with me?”

She gave me one of those smiles that makes me melt with desire. I wanted to kiss her just then, regardless of how angry I was in that moment. But then, Ellie reached out and traced the edge of my jawline with her fingertip. “Because you look like your father,” she purred.

I think that was supposed to be a compliment, but I didn’t take it that way. I pulled back from her slightly.

“What?” Ellie asked, troubled by my reaction. Didn’t she get it? “Don’t you like looking like your father?”

I shook my head in disbelief. “I can’t deal with this right now,” I grumbled. “I’ll see you later, Althea.” With that, I stomped off, my eyes burning with angry tears.

What just happened? I was supposed to ask Ellie to give a message to Theo for me, and instead…I don’t know. Even now, I struggle to understand the whole scene. How could Ellie be so…so shallow? We had so many phenomenal conversations together, about literature and art and philosophy and…life. She was so, so wonderful and perfect. Suddenly, I remembered Freddy’s warning to me. 

He was right. I do put people on pedestals too much. And like Freddy predicted, I had set myself up to get hurt. As I made my way outside, towards the isolation of the lake, I braced myself against the pain I felt so keenly within myself. I wondered when that pain would end, and I wondered whether Theo would ever forgive me.


	14. Making Up is Hard to Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _We all heard a huge BANG! and then a scream from a few girls, and then an explosion of laughter from a gaggle of First and Second Years. We all looked over to see what was going on, and that’s when my heart sank like lead. Standing alone, his plate of food dropped to the floor and his shirt soaked with pumpkin juice, stood Theo, looked outraged and horrified and speechless._

I felt so lost and confused, so betrayed. Ellie was a good person, a lovely, intelligent, refined, amazing girl. She was my dream, my love. I was so confused. Under normal circumstances, I would have talked to Theo about this—we could always open up to each other. But now…

I dried my eyes and retreated back to the castle before Cousin Severus caught me out of bounds. The last thing I needed in that moment was his piercing glare. I sniffled as I walked, feeling like my entire life was somehow in ruins. Naturally it wasn’t, of course, but when your girlfriend tells you that the only reason she put up with your defects was because you look like your powerful father, well, that’s pretty hard to take. It vaguely occurred to me that she might be joking, but on the other hand, there was a sincerity in her voice that told me no.

I wished she had been joking. Then I could have laughed and enjoyed the prank, and then gone back to life as normal. As I neared the castle, I thought again about Theo. I wanted nothing more than to talk to him, to apologise to him and be friends with him. There was no guarantee that he’d want to go anywhere near me, but I decided to hold out for optimism.

Unfortunately, I had no luck in getting into Ravenclaw, and there was no one around to let me in or to send a message to Theo. If I were Dad or Freddy or Tom, I would have found a way of getting word to Theo, but I wasn’t that proficient with magic. In the end, all I could do was sit next to the door and wait for someone to show up. I waited a long time, at least a half hour. The hour was later than I had realised and it didn’t occur to me that most people were already in for the night.

That’s when Malachi came along, of all people. I groaned, fearing the very worst.

“Hey, George,” he said casually, sitting down beside me.

“Hey yourself.”

“You’re not still mad, are you?” Malachi was a real charmer. Prick.

“A little.”

“Look, mate, I didn’t mean to sound like a pillock or anything. You understand, right?”

I desperately wanted to change the subject. “Listen, Malachi, can you do me a favour?”

“Want me to fetch Ellie for you?”

“Theo, actually.”

Malachi raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. “Oh, well yeah, sure. I’ll fetch Theo for you.”

Without a further word, Malachi got up, grinned at me like the prat he was, and went in to fetch Theo for me. I waited…and waited…and waited. At least twenty minutes passed and pretty soon, I was sure that Malachi had either forgotten or decided to make a fool out of me and not say anything to Theo. But then…

The door opened and, to my great relief and consternation, Theo came out, looking cold and grim. I thought he might sit next to me, as Malachi had, but instead, he stood over me, looking down at me, still on the floor.

“What do you want?” he asked bluntly. “I’m in the middle of studying. Squibs have to study, too.”

“Will you sit?” I asked him quietly, ignoring the comment.

“Like I said, I’m in the middle of something,” he said. It was as if we were complete strangers all of a sudden.

“I wanted talk to you, Theo,” I said. “I…wanted to apologise to you.”

“Don’t patronise me, George! I’m not in the mood.”

“I’m not patronising anyone, Theo! You know I don’t do that!” I sighed. This was not going well, and I was getting desperate. “Look, mate, come on, we have to talk!” I stood up and continued. “I know I’ve been a real berk these days and I’ve been neglecting our friendship and spending too much time with only wizards and witches and I’m sorry!”

Theo rolled his eyes and turned away. I reached out and touched his arm, but he pulled away, whipping around to glare at me. “You think that a simple ‘I’m sorry’ and that’s it?”

“What did I do, Theo?” I shouted. “When did I ever insult you or taunt you?”

“That’s not the point. You hang around with a bunch of snobs who only let you hang around them because of your father!”

OK, that hurt. I knew that was true, but I wasn’t going to let on to Theo about that. Instead, I said, “You suck, Scrimgeour.” And with that, I stomped off, back to the Dungeons. It was a really stupid thing to say, and I rebuked myself for not having something more biting. You suck? What an idiot!

The feud went on for an achingly long time, but at the same time, I could barely look at Ellie any more. To ease the pain, I spent a lot of time with Freddy, Aurora and Abraxas these days, but also with Aurora’s younger brother, Nigel. Nigel was in Gryffindor, along with Abraxas, but we had always been friendly, even though he was a year older than I. He was intensely studious and didn’t venture out of the library very often, unless it was to confer with some of his intellectual friends. But I liked Nigel all the same, even if he was kind of a dork. He looked almost exactly like his mother, but he acted almost exactly like his father. He was supercilious and preening and deliberately cryptic when he spoke, but there was a boyish insecurity that made him approachable and even tolerable. Abraxas loved to take the mickey out of Nigel whenever he could, which was nearly every day.

Away from the usual gang, this seemed a time for close family friends, and during this time when I didn’t have Ellie or Theo in my life I drifted back to those who had been my chums in my early childhood—Abraxas, Aurora, Althea, Nigel, Paige Malfoy, even Andromeda Malfoy, who was a first year with my sister, Lydia.

The span of ages in our growing circle was impressive, but in a way, it was really cool. We were like a little family, bonded by our parents’ intricate web of relationships, much of which we would never understand—they were all my brothers and sisters, just as much as my own blood-siblings were. The best part about it was that no matter what happened between me and my other friends, I would always have a place of acceptance and warmth with them.

But it didn’t bring me and Theo back together any sooner, which weighed on me as the days passed. How long would he stay mad at me? And when would I finally realise what I had done? Being the sap that I am, I naturally assumed that this was my fault.

“You’re an idiot, George,” Freddy said.

“No, I’m serious.”

“So am I. You’re an idiot! Look, Theo is just going to have to grow up and get over this little snit he’s in. He’s just jealous of you, George!”

Freddy was right, of course. It was up to Theo, not me, to make amends.

* * * * *

People can be so cruel.

Generally speaking, I like to be optimistic and to think the very best of people, even in hard times. OK, time to be honest. Kids are brutal to each other. Forget abusive adults or tough times. The things that kids say and do to other kids is almost unbelievable sometimes. I remember when Freddy would taunt me because I couldn’t do magic. The things he said were absolutely horrible! But then Mum overheard him one day, and that put an end to Freddy’s abuse. He also couldn’t walk quite right for a day or two.

I don’t know if that was good or bad, but it certainly made a change in how Freddy behaved towards me. In fact, that was when Freddy became rather overprotective of me, considering my former condition. He wouldn’t let anyone make me feel low or inferior or anything remotely negative. I loved him for that.

So when the unthinkable happened one day in early Spring, I was nearly out of my mind. Freddy was livid. No one knew what to say or do.

Here’s what happened.

It was late March, just when the snow was melting and the daffodils were starting to bloom. I hadn’t spoken to Theo in ages and by then, I had almost gotten used to his rejection. I busied myself with my friends and siblings, and I had maintained a good relationship with Nick and Aidan, which gave me relief. And then a First Year Slytherin had to intrude.

He was a runty little kid, scrawny and spotty and mean. His name was Mulciber—apparently his great-uncle was a notorious Death Eater. It was like meanness and nastiness ran in the family or something. Anyway, Mulciber was pretty good with Charms, advanced for a First Year. He had learned, through trial and error, how to make deer antlers grow out of someone’s head, and he could also transform a person’s face to look like clown. Mulciber had an odd sense of humour apparently. His first term, he had attacked one of the Goyle twins with the Jelly-legs Jins and he made a Hufflepuff Sixth Year Prefect’s nose grow at an enormously rapid rate, for which Mulciber proudly served three weeks of detentions.

Normally, Squibs were ring-fenced, that is, it was common knowledge that you just didn’t attack a Squib with magic. You could have a fistfight with a Squib or throw things at a Squib—at least it was a fair fight that way. But using magic just wasn’t done—it wasn’t right. I can remember when I first started at Hogwarts, one of my biggest worries was that I would be attacked right and left. In fact, I had gotten so worked up by my anxiety that I had a very hard time sleeping my first several days at school. But after a few weeks, it became clear to me that no one was going to attack me like that.

Theo and I had never really talked about that for some reason. I think we both assumed what the other felt, and so it just never became a subject of discussion. Besides, it was so embarrassing to have to admit that we were totally vulnerable to the whims of nearly every single student at the school—we were like walking targets for anyone who didn’t like us or who didn’t like Squibs or who was just young and stupid and immature.

That was a perfect description of Mulciber, with the emphasis on immature.

In the centre of the Great Hall one day, as we all queued up for luncheon, I was in the middle of telling Aurora, Abraxas and Freddy a joke I had heard from one of my Slytherin roommates—something about a Quaffle. Anyway, that was when we all heard a huge BANG! and then a scream from a few girls, and then an explosion of laughter from a gaggle of First and Second Years. We all looked over to see what was going on, and that’s when my heart sank like lead.

Standing alone, his plate of food dropped to the floor and his shirt soaked with pumpkin juice, stood Theo, looked outraged and horrified and speechless, sporting a large pig snout on his nose. I know it was supposed to be a prank, but I just couldn’t find the words to express what I felt just then. Every terror and humiliation I ever feared rushed into my consciousness, and as I listened to the laughter of the younger students, I couldn’t help but hang my head in utter shame.

But I couldn’t move for some reason. I couldn’t say a word—what could be said? I could have told everyone to stop laughing and to leave Theo alone, but wouldn’t that have made him feel worse than he already did? So I stood there in stoic silence whilst Freddy angrily dispersed the crowd. When I dared to look Theo in the eye, he gave me such an intense look of hatred that I actually gasped. I wasn’t the one who jinxed him! What was that look all about?

I knew…

Theo stormed off, followed by a concerned Freddy and Abraxas, both of whom offered to put his nose right. I continued to stand there like an idiot, stunned and grieved by what had just happened. Mulciber would pay for this. He might even get drummed out of Hogwarts for an attack against a Squib. I hoped Cousin Severus would throw the book at the little brat.

Aurora put a hand on my shoulder. “You’d better go help him,” she said quietly.

Before I could respond, Malachi and Ellie approached, chuckling. I couldn’t believe it! It was astounding, heart-breaking!

And then I opened my big mouth, like an idiot. “You find something funny?” I asked them.

Malachi and Ellie stopped in their tracks. “I didn’t know that Mulciber was so talented,” Malachi laughed.

“Oh come on, George!” Ellie exclaimed. “You have to admit that was bloody hilarious!”

“Do I?” I asked stiffly.

“What’s your problem?” she snapped. Who did she think she was? “It wasn’t like he got hurt or anything!”

“Not physically,” I replied stolidly.

Ellie smirked. “Oh wait, so you’re saying that Theo is some sort of big baby who can’t take a little prank?”

Malachi laughed. “Well it’s not like he’s…”

“What?” I shouted, cutting across him. I clenched my fists furiously.

Malachi gave me a cold, indifferent stare. I wanted to hit him in his fatuous face. “You know. Magically crippled.”

I clenched my fists tighter. “Say that again, Malachi!” I growled through gritted teeth.

But Malachi only patted my on the shoulder. “Come on, mate, don’t get your boxers in a bunch. I’m just kidding!”

I should have punched him. I should have slammed him into the stone wall, but like a prat, all I could do was storm off in a huff. I wanted to rush to Theo’s side, see how he was, hope he was alright and that he would listen to my words of comfort and friendship. After all, it had been many years since any Squib had been attacked at Hogwarts. This was a major event, even if Malachi was right and Theo wasn’t seriously hurt.

But where was he? I hoped he hadn’t returned to Ravenclaw. Freddy would know. I ran through the corridors, searching everywhere for Theo or Freddy or Abraxas. I had to talk to someone, express my outrage to a sympathetic audience. Where was everyone?

And would Theo be ready to speak to me?


	15. No One Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“No, Mr. Weasley-Chaucer! Oh dear! Oh my goodness!”_
> 
> _Before I knew it, the room had filled with green smoke. Professor McGonagall rushed to open all the windows in our classroom._
> 
> _“Sorry, Professor,” I said glumly. It had been a week since Theo threw me out of Ravenclaw, and I think my anger and frustration was showing up in my slipshod magic in the following days._
> 
> _But Professor McGonagall wasn’t going to let me get away with a simple “sorry.”_

I didn’t see Theo for three whole days. Other Ravenclaws said he was sick in bed, unable to speak or see anyone except for Madame Pomfrey and a couple of other Ravenclaws. Theo didn’t ask for me and he didn’t mention me, as far as I could ascertain from his roommates. From what Malachi said, Theo just lay in bed, not speaking to anyone.

“Will you let me come in?” I asked. Malachi and I stood in an empty corridor near the library, whispering quietly together.

“I don’t think Professor Flitwick would look too kindly on that, mate,” he replied.

“Oh come on! Flitwick is about a hundred years old, isn’t he? He’ll never know!”

“He’ll know.” Malachi paused. “But alright, George, I’ll do it. I’ll let you into Ravenclaw. Just don’t tell anyone, alright? I could get in big trouble.”

I smirked. “Since when were you ever concerned about getting in trouble, Malachi?” I asked sardonically.

Each of the four Houses has its own character, its own flavour. Abraxas tells me that the Gryffindor common room is sort of cozy and warm, with big squashy chairs and pillows and a roaring fire in the huge hearth. Nick and Aidan describe Hufflepuff in the same way, except that there’s always a snack table under their big window that overlooks the grounds. Lots of places to sit and talk, but not a lot of places to study. Slytherin is sort of sleek and dark and dramatic, with leather couches and a massive hearth that is very popular during the cold months.

I wasn’t sure what to expect from the Ravenclaw common room. I supposed there would be study carrels and desks and scads of extra quills and parchment and bottles of ink for the scholar in need. I thought there would be mountains of books everywhere, too. OK, so that was a stereotype. But why not? After all, everyone knew that the Ravenclaws were the cleverest students at school. Even the ones who weren’t at the top of the class were expected to be near the top. Malachi, for example, was way ahead of everyone in his class, except for my cousin Nigel Brian—no one was cleverer than he.

Maybe that’s why I never hung around him too much. I have enough issues with inferiority.

Anyway, Ravenclaw. The common room was, well, nice. Not overly boring, but not overly cozy either. Just…nice. Comfortable, efficient, nice. I could, in a way, sense the pressure the students must have felt. They could sit and talk, but the room wasn’t exactly conducive for lengthy conversations—at least not near the hearth. The several study tables were nowhere near the window, but instead, in a neat row on the opposite wall—less distraction that way.

“Come on, George,” Malachi said, pointing the way towards the boys’ dorms.

With hesitation, I followed him up the stairs and to the right, down the narrow corridor that to me smelled like sandalwood, and into room 5-b.

“Have fun,” Malachi said casually, then took off, back towards the common room.

One bed was occupied—Theo’s, of course. He lay still, looking out the window at the lake below, not saying a word. I edged towards him nervously, fearing what he might say.

“Uh, hi,” I finally blurted out stupidly.

Theo did not reply. I could see that his nose had been put right, but I could also see that he looked very pale and tired. Wasn’t he overreacting a bit? I mean, it was just a prank! Terrible thought, I know, but after three days, I would have thought he’d gotten over it.

“I suppose you’re here to tell me to get over it, right?” Theo finally grumbled.

“No.” I sat on the bed across from Theo, fiddling with a hangnail on my thumb. Theo continued to stare out the window.

“It’ll get infected if you keep biting it,” he said. He always could tell when I was biting my hangnails.

I shook my hands and scratched my head, searching for the right words. “Look, Theo, I was just worried about you and…” I waited for him to interrupt me and say it was OK. He said nothing. I took a deep breath and babbled on, hoping I would eventually say the right thing. “I was afraid you had gotten hurt.”

Theo sat up and glared at me. “You didn’t exactly go out of your way to stop it, did you?”

“It was all over by the time I got there!”

“And instead of telling everyone to piss off, you just stood there and let them all laugh!”

“I…”

“You what?”

“I just…I didn’t want to insult you,” I replied. Stupid answer, I know.

“Insult me?” Theo laughed disdainfully. “Insult me? Are you bloody joking? Oh wait, I get it! You didn’t want to hurt my feelings, right?”

“Well yeah, I mean, it was bad enough that Mulciber had attacked you.” Could it be that Theo was finally getting it?

“And it would have really helped if my FRIEND had stood up for me!” Theo shouted back. “You wizards are all the same!”

“That’s not fair, Theo!” I replied sharply. “That’s not how it is!”

“Oh please! Ever since you got back from London, you’ve done nothing but avoid me and Nick and Aidan like the bloody plague! Avoiding the defectives! I thought yeah, okay, he’s adjusting to new powers.”

“That’s right! I was! You’re not defective, Theo!”

Tears streamed down Theo’s face. “And now you’ve been strutting about with the likes of Malachi Zabini and his band of idiots!”

“I do not strut, Theo!” I was getting pissed. “Look, you’re right, I have been adjusting, but I’m essentially the same person.”

“That is not true!” he yelled. “You can do anything you want now, ANYthing!”

“That’s crap, Theo!” I yelled back. Now, tears were streaming down my face. “So I have a bit of magic in me, so bloody what? It’s never going to be enough, I mean, I am barely a wizard! You’re just jealous!”

Theo narrowed his eyes at me dangerously. “You’re damn right I am!” By now were standing nose to nose, shooting daggers at each other.

“You shouldn’t be! There’s nothing about me that’s even worth it!”

“Don’t you get it, you fool? You’re a bloody wizard! Don’t give me that shit about being barely able to do magic! That’s ridiculous!”

“It’s not! Look, I am no one special, Theo! You know me, I mean, I’m the same stressed out mental case as always!” I hung my head. “I know maybe five spells, maybe six, and not even that well.” I was sure Theo would see to reason with that bit of information.

I was wrong.

Theo jumped out of his bed and pointed decidedly towards the door. “You know what? I’m sick of this act from you, George. You need to leave. Now.”

“You’re chucking me out?” I shouted, flabbergasted. Who did he think he was?

He narrowed his eyes at me, as if I were a complete stranger. “Out.”

“Screw you,” I muttered. I turned on my heel and stormed out.

* * * * *

“No, Mr. Weasley-Chaucer! Oh dear! Oh my goodness!”

Before I knew it, the room had filled with green smoke. Professor McGonagall rushed to open all the windows in our classroom.

“Sorry, Professor,” I said glumly. It had been a week since Theo threw me out of Ravenclaw, and I think my anger and frustration was showing up in my slipshod magic in the following days.

But Professor McGonagall wasn’t going to let me get away with a simple “sorry.” “Really, Mr. Weasley-Chaucer, this is something you should have mastered two weeks ago! The problem is that you are not focusing your mind.”

“I’ve been pretty distracted,” I confessed.

She frowned. “Even our very worst students can master this spell fairly quickly.”

Why was she attacking me all of a sudden? “I’m still catching up! It’s hard stuff to learn is all. I’m not used to thinking this way, I mean, it’s got to be easier for the First Years, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps.”

But by mid May, I still hadn’t made much progress. I worried. Exams were coming up, and while I was going to take certain ones, I clearly wasn’t ready for OWLs in any magical subject other than Herbology and maybe Squib level Potions. Maybe. As for the rest, there was no way I was anywhere near being ready. It wasn’t like I was expecting to take OWLs or anything, I mean, I’m being realistic.

I was working on what should have been a simple summoning charm. I said “Accio!” until I was blue in the face practically, and nothing. No results. I couldn’t mask my frustration and shame, and as for Professor McGonagall, she had a few words for me.

“Sit down, Chaucer,” she said after a particularly disastrous session where once again, nothing happened.

“I know, Professor,” I said. “I know. I’ll get it soon.”

“It’s been two weeks.”

“I know. I’ve been busy.”

“Everyone is busy, Chaucer,” she said. “That is not an excuse.”

“I’ll keep trying, Professor. I promise.” I felt like she was blaming me or something. I didn’t know what to say.

“What do you want to do after Hogwarts, Chaucer?” she asked.

“Well, it might take me a while, but I have every intention of becoming a Healer,” I said. She raised an eyebrow. “I never thought I’d ever be able to be a Healer, but now…” I stopped.

Her frown intensified. “Listen, Chaucer,” she started.

“I know it might take a while, like I said. I mean, I might end up being the only thirty year-old Healer intern in St. Mungo's history, but that’s OK!”

“And you’ve set your heart on this, then?” she asked.

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted, even when I was Magically Challenged. And now it’s become a reality.”

She fell quiet. Too quiet. My heart pounded in my chest, and I wondered why she wouldn’t speak any more.

“Chaucer…George,” she started. Her voice was very quiet, very conciliatory. Why was she calling me George all of a sudden? I sensed bad news.

“What’s wrong, Professor?” I asked, now terrified at what she might say to me.

Professor McGonagall gave me a little smile and patted me on the hand. “I look forward to working with you for the next two years. I’m sure you will begin to make some progress in that time.”

“I should hope so! Two years? I want to be able to enter St. Mungo’s by the time I’m twenty-five!”

Again, she grew quiet. I wished I were a Legilimens, like Dad is.

“We need to have a serious talk about that,” she said.

It suddenly dawned on me what she was trying to say but somehow couldn’t quite find the words.

“I’m never going to be a Healer, am I?” I asked. My mouth felt like lead as I spoke, paralyzing my every word. I waited for her to deny it.

“I wish you could, George, believe me. You are brilliant and caring and kind. You get that from both your parents.”

I didn’t hear her. It didn’t matter how brilliant I was, nor how supposedly kind. I doubted that Theo thought I was very kind.

“I don’t get it,” I said, breathless. “I’m just beginning, I mean, I’m just learning all this right now! I need time is all!”

“George, there are many wizards who don’t qualify to be Healers. Not everyone has your father’s gifts,” she said.

“No one does! So what?” I had forgotten whom I was talking to, but to my shock, Professor McGonagall let me get away with it. “Not everyone who’s a Healer is perfect!”

“But there are standards, George. There are strict qualifications for any career path.”

“And what? You’re saying I’ll never have the qualifications to be a Healer? Even with practice?”

She looked down. “No, George, not based on what you have demonstrated this term. I wish I could say otherwise, believe me. I’ve been at this for a very long time, and I know of what I speak. I’m sorry.”

I didn’t want to cry. I resolved not to cry. All I could do for two whole minutes was sit there, unable to speak or move or breathe. What was I doing, then, trying to learn magic? I didn’t get it. What was this all in aid of, if not to help me work towards becoming a Healer? Was this their idea of a cruel prank?

“Please, Professor,” I begged. That’s right, I was begging. “Don’t give up on me.”

“I’m not, George. You have so much to learn! You just have to accept that your path will be different,” she replied. “You will do something wonderful in the world, George! Your father has done amazing things, and so will you, in your own way.”

“But I’m not my father, am I?”

She smiled at me. “You are so much like your father that it stuns me every day I know you.”

I blushed bright red. I knew that comment was supposed to make me feel better, but it only made me feel worse—I was an emotional wreck.

“George, you will be as spectacular as your father is, but in your own way. Not as a Healer.”

So there.

I trudged out of the office a few minutes later, after Professor McGonagall had given me a long speech about the possibilities of working in the Ministry, perhaps with Muggle Relations or with International Magical Cooperation. It was humiliating—Muggle Relations? One thing I knew at that point was that I couldn’t bear to see anyone—I was too raw, too vulnerable. One look by the wrong person and I might dissolve into wild, violent tears in front of the entire school. I’d had enough humiliation for a day.

I wandered out towards the lake, towards some vague isolated spot where I could sit and let go of my rampaging grief and confusion and fury. I was wild with rage all of a sudden, overcome with deep disappointment that I hadn’t felt since I had that talk with Dad when I was nine. I collapsed onto a mossy log not too far from the edge of the forest, and completely, utterly broke down. It was pathetic. I sobbed loud, ugly, choking, gasping sobs, not caring but just releasing every shred of anger and anguish from my body and soul. My cries rang out against the night sky, bouncing horribly across the lake’s surface.

I never noticed him, sitting there. When exactly he arrived, I had no idea, but suddenly I felt him there, just sitting. I struggled to contain my emotions, but to my shame, found that I couldn’t. Theo placed a hand on my shoulder and let me weep.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” he asked, horrified by the display.

“Nothing,” I choked. “Nothing at all!” I was all the more embarrassed, letting him see me this way—it was bad enough that we’d been feuding, but for him to find me in this condition was beyond endurance. My pride had suffered enough for a day—for a lifetime.

“Come on, George, you can tell me,” Theo said.

“I am telling you!” I snapped. “I’m a fraud! A stupid, fucking fraud!” I dissolved into a flurry of new sobs.

His hand on my shoulder moved across my back, and the next thing I knew, Theo had put his arm around me, as if to protect me or at least give me comfort. He leaned his head against mine, and I sobbed all the more.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here any more, Theo!” I said through sniffles. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be any more! I thought I was a wizard and that I could really do magic, but I can’t! I’ll never be good enough!”

I admit I put Theo in an awkward position. What can you do for a friend in such distress but pander to their emotions?

“You don’t mean that,” Theo said.

“I do! This whole magic business is rubbish! I wish I’d never started it!”

“That’s crazy, George!”

I glared at him. “I am NOT crazy!” I pulled out my wand and held it by both ends. Theo scooted back a little, looking very apprehensive.

“What are you going to do with that wand, George?” he asked, trying to remain calm.

“I’m going to snap it in half,” I said.

“OK, now hang on!” Theo exclaimed. “You can’t do that!”

“I want to go back to normal,” I replied. “I want to be what I was. I’m done with this whole magic business.”

“But you’re not the same, you idiot! Your magic may be small right now, but at least you’re a wizard!”

I looked at the wand as if it were a traitor. “Maybe I don’t want to be a wizard any more,” I said.

With that, I gripped it tight with both hands.

“Wait!” Theo shouted. “George, please, no!”


	16. A Question of Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Once again, I found myself back with the same questions I had before I was able to do magic. What could I do? Who was I? And what about my exams? I was at a complete loss about that, and the closer I got to exam time, the more my worries increased._

My magic may be rubbish, but I’m not stupid. I didn’t snap the wand in two, after all. That was partly because of Theo’s…intervention, and partly because of my own, stubborn will. In truth, just as I was about to snap the thing, Theo grabbed it from me—or he tried to grab it. For a good two minutes the both of us struggled for the wand like a couple of wrestlers.

“Come on, George!” Theo growled. “Let go of it! Give it, George!”

He had one hand on my wand and the other grabbed me by the hair, trying to wrestle me to the ground.

“Owww!” I cried out. “Let go of my hair!”

“Let go of your wand!”

I tried to shove him back with every bit of strength I possessed, slamming my shoulders against him to get him off me, but Theo wouldn’t let go. He wrapped an arm around my neck this time and twisted hard, sending me to the ground, flat on my back. Years of wrestling Freddy had prepared me a little, but as it turned out, Theo was a lot stronger than I had realised. I loosened my grip on the wand and that was when Theo snatched it, pointing it at me.

I laughed. “What do you think you’re going to do with that, Theo?” I asked, panting and sweating hard.

Theo cracked a wry grin. “I’ll poke you in the eye with it!”

The scene was so ridiculous, so completely outrageous, and soon, the two of us were rolling on the ground, covered in leaves and twigs, shrieking with laughter. After a while, exhaustion and high emotion took over, and we lay there, not talking for a few moments.

“So does this mean we’re friends again?” I asked.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Theo replied. “Someone’s got to be there to keep you out of trouble.”

“I was a jerk.”

“So was I,” Theo said. “It takes two to make a feud.” He sat up. “Can we make an agreement? Can we not do that any more?”

“I think so,” I replied, sitting up. I dusted the dried grass blades out of my hair. Glancing over, I saw my wand, placed carefully back on the log where I had been sitting. Theo looked at the wand, then at me.

“You need that, don’t you?” he said, getting to his feet. “Even if your magic is crap, you can’t do it without one of those. You’re not a freak like your brother, Tom.”

“True.”

* * * * *

Once again, I found myself back with the same questions I had before I was able to do magic. What could I do? Who was I? And what about my exams? I was at a complete loss about that, and the closer I got to exam time, the more my worries increased.

“You’re taking some of them, right?” Abraxas asked that night at dinner. He had just finished a mountain of mashed potatoes and was reaching for more.

“Only four,” I said, disgruntled. “Philosophy, maths, herbology and history.”

“You could do the literature one,” Freddy suggested. “You’re clever when it comes to that stuff.”

“I haven’t taken it this entire term, and I haven’t done any preparation for the OWL! There’s no way I could possibly achieve a decent grade! I don’t really have a choice.”

“That doesn’t seem fair, to be honest,” Paige Malfoy said. She scowled as her brother made his way through his second mountain of potatoes. “Abraxas, you’re going to get a stomachache from all those carbs!”

“I will not!” he shot back.

She rolled her eyes at him and turned to me. In my recent distress, I had lost a bit of touch with Paige. She’s a bit younger than I, a Fourth Year to be exact. Considering that our fathers are best friends, anyone would think that Paige and I would be pretty close, just like Freddy and Abraxas are. Then again…well…she’s a girl and she was always a little young—not too young, but…younger. Of course, she had recently turned fifteen, which meant she wasn’t fourteen any more. Do I sound stupid?

Anyway, she had raised a good point. After all, was it fair that I had to abandon a lot of my classes, only to find out that I stunk at magic? How would I make that up? It was so late in the term to discover that my magic was substandard, and now there was no time to make up for the work I’d lost from my usual classes. It was like the wizarding world was set against me once again. I couldn’t seem to catch a break.

“You should talk to the Headmaster about that,” Paige said. “Maybe he can make an exception for you, let you take the exams at the end of summer, so you can catch up.”

“It’s not up to him, Paige,” Abraxas said. “It’s up to the testing board, and they’re independent of the school.”

“That seems odd,” Freddy mused. “After all, aren’t we the only wizarding school in Britain?”

“Maybe they do the testing for Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, too,” Paige offered.

Everyone mumbled in assent. But Paige’s suggestion rattled me. Complain? To Cousin Severus? “I don’t know about complaining to the Headmaster, Paige,” I said.

Freddy laughed, but then, Aurora threw him a nasty glare, very reminiscent of her father.

“I can talk to Daddy if you want me to,” Althea piped up.

“No thanks,” I said. “This is something I should do on my own.”

Paige looked rather impressed.

Getting to see Cousin Severus…that is, Professor Snape, was altogether something different. In fact, with exams approaching and with the summer coming, he was impossible to pin down. He was in meeting after meeting, and made several trips to London to confirm the list of incoming First Years for the 2020-2021 school year.

One day, in fact, Aurora came running to join us as the Hufflepuff table for dinner in the Great Hall—we had joined Nick, Aidan and June Jessup for a lot of talk about exams and for some serious gossip.

“OK, you guys, you’re not going to believe who’s coming here next year as a Firstie!” Aurora said, breathless.

“Molly Potter!” June guessed.

“She’s only nine!” Abraxas pointed out.

“True, but June is close,” Aurora said.

We all looked at each other, equally flummoxed. If it wasn’t someone from the Patil Academy, where most young witches and wizards went before Hogwarts, then it must be someone entirely new. Perhaps a muggle-born?

“Come on, Aurora,” Freddy said impatiently. “Dish! Who is it?”

“Vernon Dursley!” she crowed.

I crinkled my brow. “Isn’t that Harry Potter’s uncle?”

“And Harry’s cousin, Dudley, has a son, and the son is called Vernon!” Aurora said.

“Oh my gods!” Freddy laughed. “That is bloody hilarious!”

“So was the boy drummed out of the family?” Nick asked, laughing, too. “I heard that Potter’s uncle wasn’t too kind about wizards!”

“Maybe he died,” Althea wondered.

“Not as far as I know,” Aurora replied. “Daddy never knew the uncle, but apparently he knew the aunt, at least a little.”

“So weird,” I said. “Didn’t the uncle abuse Harry? I thought Dad talked about that once.”

“I think he did,” Abraxas said. “My father says the same thing about Potter. A bit messed up from years of abuse. He sort of felt sorry for Potter sometimes.”

“So do I,” June said glumly. “I hope the cousin isn’t a brute.”

“It’ll be really interesting to know,” Theo said with a note of anticipation and fascination.

To my horror, the sound of snide sniggering echoed behind us. We all turned to see the pinched, mean face of Mulciber. Abraxas narrowed his eyes at him, in the Malfoy tradition. Paige did the exact same thing.

“What’s up, Mulciber?” Abraxas asked dangerously.

“Not much,” he replied. “I just thought it was weird that a Squib would know anything.” Mulciber and his cronies laughed.

For a moment, no one moved. Not even Abraxas. So, it was up to me. I stood up, gripping my wand.

“You have a problem with Squibs, Mulciber?” I asked, trying to sound as intimidating as I could.

“Maybe,” he replied haughtily.

I towered over him, and used that to my advantage. “Why don’t you take off before we have any misunderstandings?”

Mulciber shrugged. “I wasn’t going to do anything, Chaucer,” he said. The brat wasn’t the least bit flustered. OK, so I’m not that intimidating looking, but you’d think any First Year would be a little worred. Not Mulciber, true to his evil origins. Apparently his grandfather was one of the first to join the Death Eaters, way back in the day.

At first, Mulciber turned to walk away, to my relief. But then he stopped and looked straight at Theo. “Just watch your back, Squib,” he spat.

I wasn’t going to let him get away with that sort of shit, so I put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Just then, a sharp stinging spell struck my hand, making me shriek in pain. When I was—that is, when everyone thought I was—Magically Challenged, no one ever hit me with any spell. No one dared. But I was a proven wizard, even if I couldn’t do half the spells the worst First could. But a stinging spell? That was a bit much, and unfortunately, I hadn’t learned how to defend myself magically, having always depended on Freddy or Abraxas to get me out of situations. I guess that’s part of the responsibility of being a wizard—I have to be able to take care of myself.

To my relief, on this day anyway, Freddy, Abraxas, Aurora, and even Nick and Aidan came to my rescue. Freddy disarmed Mulciber whilst Aidan pulled the brat into a headlock. Before Freddy could do any more damage to the kid, three teachers rushed forward to break up the fight. Professor Longbottom took charge.

“Alright, Jessup, let go of him,” he ordered.

“The stinker hexed Chaucer!” Aurora shouted.

“Stinging spell!” Aidan said, pointing to the burn on my hand.

Professor Longbottom frowned. “That’s not an excuse to attack Mr. Mulciber!” he shot back.

“And he mocked Theo!” Aurora said.

“But he didn’t actually hex him, right?”

“Well no,” I said, “but he did threaten him, sir.”

Professor Longbottom thought a moment, then turned on Mulciber. “Alright, I’ll take it from here. Come with me, Mulciber.”

But Mulciber protested. “That’s not fair! I was the one put in a headlock, not the Squib!”

It took a lot to make Professor Longbottom angry—generally, he was easygoing and kind, a bit of a pushover, though he was a pretty hard grader. I usually got A’s and E’s from—rarely an O. But I always appreciated how he treated me. It would have been easy for him to give me top marks, either out of sympathy or because of my father—instead, he was honest with me and judged me fairly, based on my abilities. He could, at times, become rather paternal and overprotective, especially towards those he thought were at some sort of disadvantage—that was me in spades. I was Mr. Disadvantaged, even as a wizard.

Anyway, he was none too chuffed to see Mulciber’s nasty attitude, and I think it was actually that snideness that got the kid in real trouble. I suppose Professor Longbottom thought a First Year couldn’t be a danger to a Fifth Year. Either way, I hoped Mulciber would get a nice, long detention with Hagrid, preferably in the Forbidden Forest.

* * * * *

“You know something?” Theo asked me.

“What?” I replied, still rubbing my hand from the burn the stinging spell left me.

“You need to learn a little self-defence.”

I sniggered. “No shit, Sherlock.”

* * * * *

My courage up, I decided that my friends were right. I simply had to confront Cousin Severus about my situation, and I had to do it on my own, without Freddy or Dad or anyone else backing me up. Aurora told me exactly when he would be in his office—Friday afternoon, 4:30. So onward I marched, making the long trek to that big, cavernous office that still made me shiver with certain dread.

Aurora also told me the password to enter the office.

I stood before the gargoyles. “Ogden!” I said. The gargoyles jumped apart, and I tremulously entered the atrium that lead to the office. I had to breathe deeply the whole time to calm myself and to steady my nerves. It was so strange. I’ve known Cousin Severus all my life—he’s about as close to an uncle as any of my Weasley uncles and yet…well, I’ve already mentioned that, haven’t I?

I knocked at the door. Silence. Was he in? Aurora swore he was. She guaranteed it. I debated leaving, but steeled myself and knocked again. Silence again. And then…

“Enter.”

I turned the knob and pushed.

When I entered the office, Cousin Severus sat behind the desk, going through a huge mass of parchments. He looked up at me and scowled.

“I suppose Althea gave you the password,” he sneered.

“Aurora, actually,” I admitted. Uh oh. Did I just get her in trouble?

“You have a lot of nerve barging in here like this, unannounced, unexpected. Typical Chaucer behaviour.”

“I have a reason,” I pointed out. He had to know I was in earnest. “This is quite serious.”

“I’m sure it is, Chaucer,” he muttered sullenly. “So what is it that’s so serious that you burst into my office in such a way?”

Geez, he was such a pill sometimes! “I wanted to discuss my situation, sir,” I said, as firmly as I dared.

He raised an eyebrow. “Your situation?”

Was he kidding me? “My exams, sir.”

“And what about your exams troubles you?”

“The fact that I will only be allowed to take four of them and not the usual number.”

He raised an eyebrow again. “And what is the usual number for someone in your situation?”

I shrugged. “Nine? Ten?”

“If you are your brother or Mr. Malfoy perhaps. You, however, are not.”

I sat down, uninvited, and to my amazement, he didn’t stop me, nor did he order me to stand up again. “I just don’t think it’s fair that I was pulled out of my classes and now I find out that my magic is so horrible that I won’t have any hope of becoming a Healer! I want to back to my normal schedule and resume my usual…”

But his furious glare stopped me. “Usual? What do you mean usual? You wish to deny your magic and revert to something you are not?”

“Well…”

“Well what?” he snapped, sounding way more offended than I thought he would. “You can’t do it on the first try so you wish to give up and go back to what is easy?”

“I just…”

“You wish to return to the frustration you felt? The severe limitations you faced when you were Magically Challenged? Is that what you want?” He gave me a hard stare, his eyes boring into mine. Had I known Occlumency…

I sighed, defeated. “I just thought…” It was hard not to cry just then. “I just thought that if I had magic I could learn it and become a Healer, even if I was a couple of years behind the rest. I…didn’t know how hard doing magic really is.”

Cousin Severus frowned. “So are you admitting you weren’t trying hard enough?”

“No!” I shot back. “I’ve been trying as hard as I can! But it’s hard for me! My magic has been dormant all this time and I’m just getting used to it! I just don’t understand how Professor McGonagall could tell me flat out that I’ll never be a Healer! She had no right to do that to me!”

“She had every right to be honest with you!” Cousin Severus hissed. At first, I thought he might throttle me out of frustration, but suddenly, his face fell and his features softened—a rarity. He sat next to me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“I just need a chance,” I said, almost inaudibly.

“You know, George,” he said, “there are two sides to your father. There’s the magical prodigy that scares the hell out of me but who is a brilliant potions master and Healer, and then there’s the diplomat and humanitarian who just wants things to be fair and just for everyone. I can’t speak about your magical abilities yet, George. It’s too soon. But you have a strong sense of justice and a lot of daring.”

I shook my head. “I’m not that daring, Cousin Severus.”

He laughed. “What do you think drove you into my office today? I know I make you uneasy. It took a lot of guts for you to set that aside and storm in here. Your father would have done just the same thing. Besides my wife, your father is about the only one who will tell me off to my face.”

I stared at him, confused.

“When your father first became a wizard,” Cousin Severus continued, “he thought he could continue his normal, muggle life, however he quickly realised that this was impossible, that his fate rested elsewhere.”

“I know that, Cousin Severus. He tells me that all the time.”

“Then you should take his advice!” he snapped. “What is clear is that your true talents lie elsewhere but not as a Healer. George, I want you to trust us a little and strive to work with us on this process. Can you do that?”

I didn’t have an answer.


	17. Mr. Malfoy's Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Draco Malfoy was a fascinating individual. He grew up impossibly rich, dreadfully spoiled, and groomed to become a dark wizard like his own father—Dad said he was even a Death Eater for a short period of time, before he came to his senses. But when he got into some serious trouble with some very bad people, he sort of had a change of heart—Mum says it was because of Dad’s influence on him. Since going down from Hogwarts, according to Dad, Mr. Malfoy sort of floated about, traveled, married, divorced, remarried, fixed up the house. He had become known as something of a philanthropist, but a wicked investor as well. As vast as the Malfoy fortune was, Mr. Malfoy worked pretty hard at maintaining his bank balance. Therefore, I knew he would easily “find” twenty-five million Galleons to replace what he had just given Abraxas. No problem._
> 
> _But then he threw me._

I wracked my brains for days on end.

I took my exams—three, not four as it turned out—and once I was done, I had a lot of time on my hands while everyone else, wizard and Magically Challenged alike, finished up the long haul. I drank a lot of tea that week, sitting in Professor McGonagall’s office pouring over brochure after brochure, trying to figure out how to spend the rest of my life with only three OWLs to my name. I had a sick feeling that taking NEWTs was out of the question for me now. What would I do? What could I do?

I could possibly be a custodian at the Ministry. I was pretty sure I had just enough magic to clean toilets and empty dustbins. Or maybe I could be a dog walker for wealthy witches who took long shopping trips to Paris, _sans chien_. No magic needed for that, except perhaps for an anti-biting charm. Or I could be a shipping clerk for uncles Fred and George—I’m sure they’d pay me well, considering they were making gold by the ton. But I think my parents expected a little more from me than that.

OK, time to be serious.

The more I looked at the numbers of jobs available to me, the sting of disappointment lessened…somewhat. In truth, there was a lot more available to me than just pushing a broom or waxing a floor. I could, for example, work in the Department of International Magical Cooperation as a sort of diplomat—Dad worked in the Ministry for a short time, though I seem to remember that he disliked the post somewhat. Besides, it sounded funny to me, being a diplomat at my age, but then again, I’m sure I wouldn’t be a diplomat straight out of school no matter who my parents were. Were I to join the International office, I would certainly start as some sort of errand boy or note taker or something very unassuming. 

Then again, I could work for the _Daily Prophet_ , except that if I did, my parents would likely disown me—they had serious issues with that publication. Plus, I wasn’t that great of a writer. I could sell advertising space in _Witch Weekly_ or _The Portal_ or something like that. I wouldn’t need much magic to sell adverts.

But selling adverts didn’t sound too exciting. In fact, I’d rather push a broom at the Ministry than sell adverts. At least I’d see a variety of people.

I liked the idea of being a charm breaker, like my uncle Bill Weasley—same problem, though…not enough magic. Perhaps I could work in hospital supplies—that way I could at least be around Healers. Then again, it would be too painful for me to be around that environment, considering my situation. I briefly thought of a career in the Wizengamot, but then I wondered what positions were available. After all, to be a judge, I supposed you’d have to be a lawyer first. That’s how the muggles do it.

Hmm.

Could I…

I had no idea.

My brother, Tom, was named after Tom McDowell, a dear friend of Dad’s and one hell of an amazing attorney. According to Dad, Tom McDowell practiced both wizard and muggle law—he got Dad out of a bit of trouble back before I was born. Since then, both Mum and Dad always talked about Tom as a true hero and a champion of human rights. The image made me think.

Then again, Mum was always suspicious of lawyers, and Dad was equally suspicious of judges.

But everyone loved Tom McDowell. He allegedly saved Dad’s life, so there must be something good about lawyers. Mum and Dad never gave us the full details of that particular situation, but I figured it must have been pretty bad. Anyway, I knew I was clever enough to practice law, but on the other hand, learning it all seemed…tedious. I was young, vital, ripe for adventure! I wanted action, excitement…magic. Sitting in an office or in a courtroom didn’t sound all that thrilling to me for some reason. Oh well. At least I still had two years to figure it out.

* * * * *

The end of June brought a huge event for us Weasley-Chacuers. Freddy was at long last going down, entering into the vast world of work and worry, just like Dad and Mum and everyone else. The only adult I know who never worked a day in his life is Abraxas’ father, Draco. Then again, the man is rolling in gold, so I guess I can’t blame him or anything. Plus, Mr. Malfoy raised Abraxas and Paige as a single dad for four years, and I’d say he did a great job at that.

Abraxas, unlike his father or his grandfather or anyone else in the Malfoy line for as far back as he could discern, was going to get a job—a real, paying, day-to-day job. We all figured that Mr. Malfoy would be pretty upset by that. After all, according to Paige, if you’re a Malfoy, you’re better than the average working stiff.

“Daddy used to believe it,” she once told me, “until the family life went to shit. Now, Daddy says that working people have some value to the world.”

Incredible. Draco Malfoy isn’t what I would call the most open-minded person in the world, and he’s pretty much a snob, but he raised his children to value what they had and to use their lives and their resources to create something positive in the world, even if they didn’t have a paying job.

Abraxas, in that spirit, decided to work for the Wizarding Social Welfare service—it’s an organization founded by his step-mother’s sister, Hannah Abbot, and it’s devoted to feeding poor witches and wizards and trying to secure housing and job training for them. Abraxas used to help out at their shelter during parts of the summers when their father wasn’t carting them off to Europe or America. He used to go on and on about the plight of the poor, forgotten members of wizarding society, so it came as no huge shock when he decided to work with them after he went down from Hogwarts.

“And your dad’s OK with that?” Tom asked one evening after exams. We all sat by the lake with a picnic supper, a privilege afforded to Seventh Years. Us younger kids got to tag along because we were with Freddy, Abraxas and Aurora. The House Elves had packed the biggest ham sandwiches I had ever seen, plus apples, grapes, crisps, bottles of butterbeer and other assorted snacks and sweets.

Abraxas shrugged diffidently. “Sure. Why not? Actually, it was Greta who got me interested in the first place.” I always thought it was amazing that Abraxas got away with calling his step-mother by her first name. I once called my Mum Ginny—let’s just say she was none too pleased.

“So what will you be doing there?” Theo asked.

“At first, more of the same,” he replied. “I had started a whole project to reorganise their food bank, and I needed to set up more contracts with restaurants and shops to get their extra or unsold food. Hannah told me recently that it needs more work, so that’ll be Number One for me.”

“That is really great,” I said. “Say, maybe you all could work out something with St. Mungo’s to get free health care for your clients.”

Freddy frowned. “Doesn’t that already happen?” he wondered aloud.

“Only for emergencies, like a splinching incident or some serious magical malady. But I’ve heard of cases where even people with spattergroit can’t get treated,” Abraxas said.

“So what are they supposed to do?” I asked.

“Get a bloody job, they’re told,” Abraxas replied bitterly.

It made me wonder. “How many of your clients are Magically Challenged?” I asked.

Abraxas looked uncomfortable just then. After all, four of our party were Magically Challenged, and I was just short of being Magically Challenged, too. I don’t think he wanted to answer the question.

“You can tell us,” Nick said. “We won’t get offended.”

We all looked at Abraxas with anticipation, fearing the worst. He did not disappoint.

“Actually,” he replied finally, “I’d say about sixty percent, maybe up to seventy-five percent are Squi…I mean, Magically Challenged.”

I scowled. “That sounds like a conservative number.”

“Well, I’m only talking about the people we actually serve. I don’t know what the percentage is for the general indigent population.”

“But you suspect it’s higher?” Freddy asked.

“I think so,” Abraxas replied. “Actually, I don’t know if anyone has studied that.”

My throat felt tight all of a sudden, and I lost my appetite. “That bothers me,” I said.

“That there are a lot of poor Squibs?” Aidan asked. We all winced a little at his casual use of the S-word.

“That no one has studied the problem,” I said.

“Why don’t you?” Paige asked.

I thought about it. “Maybe I will.”

* * * * *

Before I could study anything, I had a party to attend. OK, actually it was three massively huge parties to celebrate the going down of Aurora Snape, Abraxas Malfoy and Freddy Weasley-Chaucer. The first one, hosted by Aurora’s parents, took place in the Great Hall, which had been transformed into the hippest nightclub any of us had ever seen. Cousin Severus hired a former student of his and a deejay on the Wizarding Wireless, to provide music, and he ordered the most incredible feast from the House Elves. Aurora invited all her friends and their friends, as well as her parents’ friends and their friends. I have no idea how many attended the party, but it was a lot of people, including one vampire and two hags.

Two nights later, Abraxas had a party at Malfoy Manor—up to Malfoy standard of elegance and total opulence, his parents spared no expense as they gave him the party of the century. Caterers came from France, Italy and Spain, and the five most popular bands played for the massive crowd all night long. Three reporters from the _Daily Prophet_ were there to cover the event—let’s just say they would be writing about this party for weeks on end. Things got a little out of control, especially when one of the Goyle twins was caught in a compromising position with a witch who was not his girlfriend.

Abraxas also received his present—a staggering twenty-five million Galleons, to be given to him over the next seven years, and to be spent as he wished. It was an amazing act of trust on the part of his father to give an eighteen year-old that much money. Then again, this was Abraxas Malfoy—I had a strong feeling that the homeless shelter would receive a very nice endowment very soon.

Needless to say, Freddy was not given twenty-five million Galleons. In fact, he wasn’t given any money at all, other than what he would need for Healer training. That was Mum and Dad’s way—we were expected to make it on our own, by our own merits and not based on who we were related to or on who our well-heeled friends were. Naturally, Freddy had a place to live. He could stay at home for as long as he needed to—that suited Freddy just fine. Besides, Mum and Dad had set up small trust funds for each of us kids—once we entered Hogwarts, they would open a vault for us at Gringott’s and place a certain amount of gold each of our academic years, though they never told us how much. Somehow, I doubted it was anywhere near twenty-five million.

Freddy’s party was a bit smaller than the other two, but no less wild and crazy. How could it not be when our uncles Fred and George Weasley were there, bringing all sorts of firecrackers and things that exploded, lit up, whizzed and banged? Freddy was in his element that night, as were Mum and Dad. Mum spent a lot of time with Allegra and Greta and Aunt Hermione. Dad got a little drunk, I think, and spent a lot of time talking about the good old days with Draco, Uncle Ron, Harry Potter, Blaise Zabini and Hannah Abbot. It was a side of Dad I rarely got to see, and I found it really amusing. After all, he’s just like me—way too intense and serious for his own good. I would have gotten drunk, too, but I think my parents would have grounded me for the next ten years.

Instead, I was unexpectedly called aside by Mr. Malfoy—from what I could tell, he was completely sober, though after what he said to me, I wondered about that. Anyway, he waved me over, or rather, summoned me.

Draco Malfoy was a fascinating individual. He grew up impossibly rich, dreadfully spoiled, and groomed to become a dark wizard like his own father—Dad said he was even a Death Eater for a short period of time, before he came to his senses. But when he got into some serious trouble with some very bad people, he sort of had a change of heart—Mum says it was because of Dad’s influence on him. Since going down from Hogwarts, according to Dad, Mr. Malfoy sort of floated about, traveled, married, divorced, remarried, fixed up the house. He had become known as something of a philanthropist, but a wicked investor as well. As vast as the Malfoy fortune was, Mr. Malfoy worked pretty hard at maintaining his bank balance. Therefore, I knew he would easily “find” twenty-five million Galleons to replace what he had just given Abraxas. No problem.

But then he threw me.

Together, bottles of ale in hand, the two of us walked outside, taking a short walk in our back garden. At first, I thought he would make small talk. In truth, I had no idea what he wanted. My relationship with him was pretty friendly, actually—he always took a special interest in me whenever I visited Malfoy Manor, taking time to be sure I was cared for and content. I always thought that was pretty nice, though at times I wondered why he took extra measures with me—I supposed it’s because of my face, that I look like Dad.

Anyway, Mr. Malfoy looked up at the moon for a moment, then sat down on the grass. I sat next to him, waiting for him to speak.

“You must be wondering why I dragged you out here,” he said with a laugh.

“I sort of did, yeah.”

“You know, Chaucer, you play a very important role in my life,” he said rather portentously.

OK, that made me wonder. “What do you mean?” I asked.

“I’m sure you father told you what a right bastard I was when we first met, right?” he asked. So much for subtlety.

“Well, he might have…”

Mr. Malfoy sniggered at my attempt to be tactful. “I went through a fair amount of hell right after I met Nigel. He helped me through a lot of it, too, saw me through the darkest parts of my life. You know, I used to be extremely bigoted.”

I nodded. I knew.

“Not about race or anything like that,” Mr. Malfoy went on. “About purity of blood. Stupid, isn’t it? But I was also taught to hate Squibs, too, anyone who didn’t do magic or couldn’t do magic. I hated muggles, muggle-borns, Squibs, half-bloods.”

“You never had a problem with me, did you?” I asked, now wondering what he was going to reveal.

Mr. Malfoy grinned. “No, George, I didn’t. You know I love your father like a brother, don’t you? The way you feel about Freddy, that’s how I feel about Nigel. It’s a deep bond that can’t be broken, no matter how awful we might be to each other.”

I eyed him curiously as he continued.

“So when we all realised that you were a Squib, I found that I couldn’t hate you. You’re my best friend’s son. It was a big moment for me. It was like all the changes that I had made over the years came full circle. You changed my life, George.”

I wanted to cry just then. It was so strange, listening to him talk like that…to me. I don’t have low self esteem or anything, but I never thought of myself as anything special. Like I said before, I’m just me, nothing else. And yet, here was Mr. Malfoy, a former Death Eater, a killer, a reformed bigot, the proud, pompous father of my brother’s best friend, speaking to me like…an equal, even as someone superior to himself.

It’s a really humbling experience to step outside yourself and see the way you impact those around you. Most of the time, I’m so focused on my own life and concerns that I just don’t see how I do affect others. I guess we all do that to some extent. One thing I knew was that speaking like this was not comfortable for Mr. Malfoy. He had made himself vulnerable to me in the most unexpected way imaginable, but he wasn’t quite finished with me that night.

He blew his nose and finished his drink in a single gulp, then turned to face me.

“Abraxas mentioned something to me the other day, and I wanted to talk it over with you,” he said, now sounding very businesslike.

“What did he say?” I asked.

“He told me that you expressed a great deal of concern for the people he serves in his business.”

“You mean the homeless?”

“Exactly.”

“Look, Mr. Malfoy, if you think I want to work there, I don’t really…”

He put up his hand to silence me. “I have no idea what you want to do with your life, but I think that you have the power to do something extremely positive for the whole of society. To that end, I want to strike a deal with you.”

“What sort of deal?”

“I am opening a vault in your name at Gringott’s, tomorrow, and in it, I am depositing one million Galleons.”


	18. One Million Galleons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I thought I would pass out just then, I mean, one million Galleons._
> 
> _ONE MILLION GALLEONS!_
> 
> _One MILLION Galleons!!!_
> 
> _Was he out of his mind?_

I thought I would pass out just then, I mean, one million Galleons.

ONE MILLION GALLEONS!

One MILLION Galleons!!!

Was he out of his mind?

My mind raced madly as I tried to make sense out of what Mr. Malfoy had just said to me. I laughed.

“You’re not serious, are you?” I said jokingly. My knees wobbled uncontrollably.

“I am quite serious, Chaucer,” he replied. “I have thought about this very carefully, and I am sure I have made the right decision about this.”

“But I don’t understand, sir, I mean, I’m still at school!”

He rolled his eyes derisively at me and shook his head. “I realise you haven’t magically aged two years, Chaucer. However, as you do have two years of school to go, that will give you ample time to decide what to do with the money.”

“Well what did you have in mind? I mean, I’m sure you have some idea how you want me to spend it.”

“As I’m sure you know, this is not to fund your private habits,” he replied. “In fact, I want to leave it to your judgement as to how you should spend it. I trust you will find a good cause for these funds.”

“So you want me to be a sort of philanthropist or something?” I asked, still overwhelmed by the prospect of being responsible for one million Galleons.

“Maybe. What I do know is that I believe you can make an impact on our world, and with the proper funding, I believe that you can do something big.”

I suddenly felt a bit forced, as if Mr. Malfoy were trying to push me into something. Then again, that was pretty typical of him, according to most people who knew him. He was used to getting his way, which suddenly made me skeptical of his generous offer. I felt tempted to renege, in fact. Is that crazy?

I lowered my eyes, searching for the right words for him. How does one say “thanks for the million, but no thanks”? Would he be offended? Hurt? Disappointed? Relieved?

“Mr. Malfoy,” I started, “see, I still don’t know what I want to do with my future, and I still need to decide about how to conduct my studies next term. I’m new to all this magic stuff, and I have a long way to go before I have any clue about myself.”

I thought he would interrupt me, but he just let me ramble on stupidly.

“Look, George, two years is a very long time. I don’t want you to rush into anything, after all.” And then he placed a hand on my shoulder. “But I am counting on you to use this money in the right way.”

And then, before I got a chance to respond or argue further, he just got up, dusted the blades of grass off his robes and returned to the party, leaving me alone and totally bewildered. The air outside was warm and there was a nice breeze that rustled the leaves on the trees. I shivered. Rather than get up and follow Mr. Malfoy inside, I stayed on the grass, thinking and trying to make sense of what had just happened.

A couple of minutes later, the back door opened, and Paige stepped into the garden. Spotting me now lying back on the grass, she waved and skipped over, grinning wickedly. I wondered whether she knew what her father had just done.

“Hey you,” she said, plopping down next to me. She reached forward and ran a very friendly hand across my chest. She’d never done anything like that before, but she didn’t seem bothered by her own boldness.

“Hey yourself,” I replied. I decided not to stop her hands, should they roam elsewhere.

Paige flicked an eyebrow upward, just like Abraxas did when he was up to no good. “So, did Daddy talk to you?” she asked.

I sat up and shook the grass out of my hair. “He sure did. I suppose you know all about it, right?”

She giggled. “It was Abraxas and my idea, actually.”

“But why? What were you thinking?” What was Paige up to?

“Don’t you remember that whole conversation we had about the homeless?” she asked. “Remember, you said you would do a study on how many Magically Challenged people end up homeless.”

“Well yeah.”

“So won’t you need some sort of funding to do that?”

“Well yeah, but a million Galleons?”

She laughed. “But then you’ve got to do something about the findings, right?”

I could see now what she was getting at. “I don’t know, Paige. I don’t know what you all want from me.”

And then she leaned forward and kissed me lightly on the lips. Her kiss tasted like icing. I pulled her close to me and kissed her. It felt strange—wonderful, but strange. 

I’d known Paige Malfoy all my life. In many ways she was like a sister to me. But Paige wasn’t a sister. She wasn’t even a distant cousin, unlike Althea Snape. Paige was lovely, funny, spirited, bright…and apparently attracted to me, which took me by surprise. I suppose it shouldn’t have. After all, I’d been noticing her more and more these days, especially after she turned fifteen back in March.

But I had to be sure that I wasn’t just reaching for her because I was lonely and hurting after my breakup with Ellie. I always liked Paige. Did I love her? I wasn’t sure. I think I did, but was it for the right reasons? I certainly loved her as a dear friend, but could there be more to it? As she and I dissolved into a burning kiss out there on the grass, under the full moon that warm, soft night, all my thoughts dissipated as my senses took over.

* * * * *

I couldn’t sleep that night. Too much had happened, and my mind couldn’t stop thinking, no matter what I tried. I didn’t know how to take it all in. Between receiving a million Galleons from Mr. Malfoy, and then a declaration of love…or at least lust…from Paige, I needed to talk this out. Freddy was already snoring—he’d had a lot to drink at the party. Abraxas had seen to that. Amazingly, Mum and Dad didn’t seem to mind. I suppose they’d gotten blasted after they had gone down from Hogwarts, so why shouldn’t Freddy?

I didn’t tell them about the snog session with Paige.

The next morning, I sought to get Dad alone so I could talk this whole situation over. I had no idea whether Mr. Malfoy had confided in him about this, but either way, I needed Dad’s perspective. But getting a word in edgeways with him was next to impossible. He was up early to help Freddy with a lot of different things, and then he had to go to the Ministry for a big meeting, and then had to check on patients at St. Mungo’s before going to a fundraiser with Mum in the evening.

This went on for two more days. Dad and Freddy were a constant pair, and Mum was working at the office and interviewing foreign witches on the women’s perspective on Quidditch recruiting, and my siblings were busy with their own friends and pursuits. I would have apparated to Theo’s to talk to him, but I didn’t dare. Even though I had successfully apparated back in December, I figured that was a fluke, especially in light of what Professor McGonagall had just said about my abilities.

In the end, I was left to my own devices, free to roam where I liked, to see who I wanted and to stay out as long as I wished. Well, that last part wasn’t true, but with Mum and Dad so preoccupied these days, I felt tempted to stay out all night, just to see if they’d notice. Somehow I felt sure they would. I don’t think Dad would have minded too much if I was out late, but I know that Mum would throw a royal fit. She worries almost as much as I do.

To my surprise, I didn’t hear a word from Paige since the party, since our kiss. I sent her an owl the following afternoon, but I didn’t hear back from her. Then I owled her again the next day but again, no response. I worried. Was this some sort of fluke? Was she a little drunk? It had felt so warm, so true, so real. Granted it was just one kiss, but there was something in that kiss that had captured me in ways I didn’t want to admit. I pined just a little for her sweet touch. I hoped she was alright.

One bright Saturday morning, I headed out in the direction of Diagon Alley, hoping to spend some quality time with my uncles, Fred and George Weasley. Never a dull moment with my uncles. And maybe they’d have some idea of what to do with a million Galleons. I guess it never hurt to ask. But when I entered the shop, everything was in complete disarray. Uncle Fred was crouched over a smoldering, purple mess, whilst Uncle George had pulled out his wand in an attempt to avert impending disaster. I stood at the threshold of the shop and looked on in wonder.

“Is everything alright?” I asked.

They both looked over at me, more than a bit surprised to see me—I guess I arrived at the wrong time. Uncle Fred held up a hand as if to prevent me from entering the store.

“Hold on there, Georgie,” he said. “We’ve got a bit of a situation here.”

“Can I help?” I asked. I had a feeling they’d say no. In fact, saying no would have been a pretty good idea, considering my poor abilities.

So when Uncle Fred conjured a blue bag and handed it to me, I was shocked.

“Hold this wide open and keep it at a distance,” he said. “The second we get it in there, shut the bag tight.”

“It?” I asked with trepidation.

“Uncle George rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You don’t want to know. Something that went terribly wrong. Ready?”

I held the bag as instructed, bracing myself for the worst. Together, my uncles pointed their wands at the purple blob, which struggled against their spell. After two minutes of very loud screeching and snorting, the thing finally relented, and finally, my uncles were able to levitate it into the bag, which I promptly closed tight. It was remarkably heavy, and it took some effort on my part not to let it clunk to the floor. Uncle Fred snatched it out of my hands and took it away, into the back of the store. Uncle George mussed my hair and grinned.

“Thanks, namesake,” he said brightly. “So what brings you here to Weasley central?”

“Just dropping by,” I replied. “Summer holiday and all.”

Uncle George leaned against the counter and rubbed his red-bearded chin. “Say, what are you plans for the summer? I suppose Freddo’s busy with St. Mungo's plans and all.”

The comment stung me deeply, but I didn’t let it show. “Yeah, and now that Paige Malfoy’s gone off somewhere, I’m not sure how I’ll spend the holiday.”

Uncle George chuckled. “Paige Malfoy, eh? She fifteen yet?”

“In March.”

“Good. She’s cute. You like her?”

I nodded. “A lot, actually.”

Uncle George elbowed me in the ribs. “She like you back?”

I thought about that kiss she gave me at Freddy’s party. “Apparently.”

He laughed. “You kissed her yet?”

My blush answered his question. Uncle Fred returned just then, his hair askew, sporting a bruise on his chin. Uncle George frowned.

“Oi, what happened?” Uncle George asked, concerned for his twin.

“It almost got away. I tripped over the pouf and smacked my jaw on the table, but I got the thing back in its box for now.” He opened a bottle of ale and drank it down. “So, Georgie, how’s the love life?”

Uncle George and I laughed.

“We were just talking about that,” Uncle George said.

“Don’t take a single word of advice from him, George,” Uncle Fred said to me. “His knowledge of witches could fill a matchbook.”

“At least I was married once,” Uncle George retorted. But then he scowled. “Until she ran off with that prat Billings.”

“Slytherins,” Uncle Fred said supportively. “No offence, Georgie.”

Uncle George’s face suddenly lit up. “Say, Fred, we could use a bit of help around this place, don’t you think?”

“I think you have a point, George,” Uncle Fred replied. “It’s nice to keep these things in the family. Remember when Ron worked for us that summer?”

Uncle George rolled his eyes. “I keep trying to forget that summer, Fred. But I think George here is an ideal candidate, if his illustrious father would deign to let us have him.” They both looked at me, waiting for a response.

Actually, it was a great idea. Being around the house was becoming a depressing place for me, and I was tired of harbouring hard feelings towards Freddy when it wasn’t his fault. Getting away from that atmosphere would be good for me. All I needed was permission from Mum and Dad.

“You want to work?” Tom asked that night at the dinner table. He practically bellowed it out.

“Well I have to start somewhere, right?” I said defencively. “And it’s just for the summer.”

“What do Fred and George want you to do?” Mum asked.

“Well they didn’t exactly specify. I suppose I’ll help out in the back or something, maybe stock ingredients or products or something.”

Dad grinned. “I think they’ll put you out front. You’d be great at that!”

Lydia snorted. Tom made her fork vanish.

“Tom, put it back!” Mum snapped. “See the sort of attitude you’ll get to deal with at the shop?” she said to me. “Your uncles are just the same.”

Dad winked at me. “I think you’re going to have a great summer.”

* * * * *

For the next three weeks, I think I saw Freddy exactly twice. If he wasn’t busy with Abraxas and Aurora, running all over Europe and America on a two-week summer Grand Tour, he was with other friends or with Dad or even a bit with Cousin Severus, talking about who knew what. I also saw nothing of Paige, which worried me. It was almost like she had fallen off the edge of the planet or something. I would have asked Freddy, but I barely saw him at all. So I waited and worried, hoping she was alright.

In the meantime, things at Weasleys Wizard Wheezes was no less than amazing. Dad was exactly right about Uncles Fred and George—they put me right out front, interacting with customers. At first I was pretty nervous about that. I had no experience with that sort of thing, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure I knew the product line well enough to pull it off. But something sort of clicked with me, and somehow, I knew I had found my element. I spoke with ease and pure charm with the customers, putting on my very best impersonation of Abraxas at his smooth best. The customers were like putty in my hands as I sold them mountains of merchandise, far more than what anyone ever needed.

Needless to say, my uncles were more than pleased. In fact, they wanted me to quit school and stay on.

“We want to retire before we’re fifty,” Uncle George quipped.

“Sorry, but I still have school,” I replied coolly and shrugged. “I figure that by the time I’m a Seventh Year, I’ll have about as much magic as a First Year.”

They laughed. So did I.

“Yeah, well, listen, nephew mine,” Uncle Fred said, “what you’ve got is better than magic. You’ve got class and charm, and that’ll get you miles.”

That evening after the shop closed, the three of us gathered a few extra products together into a crate—mostly toys and a few novelties that older kids might enjoy.

“So where’s all this going?” I asked.

“We’re donating it to the Wizarding Social Welfare service. Abraxas Malfoy thought it would be a good idea to donate a few things for the kids,” Uncle Fred replied. “You want to deliver it for us?”

Me? Make an important delivery like that? Actually, it was an excellent idea. After all, it would give me a chance to ask Abraxas about Paige. But wait…

“How am I going to get there?” I asked. “I can’t apparate.”

Uncle George clapped me on the back. “Not to worry, namesake. I’ll apparate you there, alright?”

I’d never been to the homeless shelter that Abraxas helped manage. He and Freddy were already making plans for Healers from St. Mungo’s to have a weekend clinic there—once Freddy became a Healer, that is. I was dismayed by what I saw when I walked into the shelter, with the crate of products in tow. Uncle Fred had put the crate on wheels so I didn’t have to lug it the two blocks from the apparation point. Inside, the shelter was a bit dark and gloomy. The common room was decorated with mismatched, very old and battered couches and chairs, and the walls were a sort of dingy grey colour. I saw one plastic tree in a corner and that was about it.

The people matched the décor perfectly. They were mostly weathered, grungy, a bit out of it. Many looked either intoxicated or overwhelmed with depression or a little crazy. One man in particular wore a massive red hat and threadbare, formerly blue robes. He had no shoes on his swollen, dirty feet. I crinkled my nose at the odour of stale sweat and ale.

I found Abraxas…or rather, he found me. Just as I had lumbered through the entrance more loudly than I had intended, a very relieved and jovial Abraxas Malfoy rushed to greet me. A little parade of small children followed him, like a line of baby ducks. The moment they saw the huge crate, their eyes widened and brightened. Abraxas shook my hand, then turned to the children.

“Alright, you all, now go back to the playroom. We’ll be back in just a few moments,” he said very paternally. I was proud of him just then.

“How was Europe?” I asked. “When did you guys get back?”

“You haven’t seen your own brother?”

“Are you kidding? He’s never around any more, and I’ve been working.”

“I got back here just yesterday,” Abraxas said, pushing a lock of blond hair out of his pale blue eyes. “I sort of had to run a family errand.” He suddenly looked troubled.

I worried anew. “Are you alright? Is Paige alright?”

Abraxas raised his eyebrows. “Paige? Why Paige?”

Was that the right thing to say to him? I didn’t want to make him worry about his sister. “I was just wondering how she was. I haven’t seen her since Freddy’s party.”

“The night she snogged you,” Abraxas said. But then he grew serious. “Look George, she’s been through a bit of a hard few weeks. I only just got her back but she’s still not quite okay.”

My heart skipped a beat. “My gods, Abraxas!” I gasped. “What happened?”

But before he could answer, the door opened…


	19. The Hostage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _As I watched the people traipse past at the homeless shelter, with paper plates and plastic cups in hand, I wondered just how many of them were Magically Challenged. I couldn’t just up and ask like that. That would be pretty rude. But I felt all the more compelled to learn more about these people. Perhaps the funds Mr. Malfoy gave me could help them in some way._

Paige looked terrible! My heart sank when I set my eyes on her. I’d never seen her like this before. Usually she was bright and pretty and lovely, but now there were dark circles under her eyes. Her skin was pallid, and she looked thinner than usual, as if she was too stressed out or troubled to eat properly. She looked as shocked to see me as I was to see her.

“Hi,” I blurted out. I suddenly felt stupid.

She forced a smile and looked cautiously at Abraxas. “Hey, George,” she replied. Her eyes filled with tears—so did mine.

Before I could gather her into my arms and kiss her, Abraxas intervened.

“Say, Paige, George was just delivering some stuff for the kids. I just need to finish up with him for a few minutes and then I’ll send him straight to you.”

“Oh, alright,” Paige replied lightly. “Should I take this into the kids?”

“I’ll take care of that, sis,” Abraxas said. “George will see you in just a few minutes, in the office.”

With that, she glumly left us alone. I could barely believe it—I just couldn’t imagine what had happened to her to get her into such a bad condition. Abraxas led me to an old, brown settee and sat me down.

“What the hell happened to her, Abraxas?” I hissed, being as quiet as I could. “Is she ill or something?”

Abraxas placed a hand on my knee to calm me down. It didn’t work.

“Mother came back,” he said.

“What?”

I have no memory of Pansy Malfoy. She left Mr. Malfoy years ago and from what I could tell, took no interest in either of her children. So it came as a complete surprise for Abraxas to talk about this. He never talked about his mother, ever. I supposed he was angry at her for leaving him so young. I can’t say I blame him. I wondered why she would return so suddenly, and how this involved Paige. I was sure that Paige had no memory of her mother, either.

Abraxas explained. “You know she left us when Paige was just a year or so and not once did she ever try and contact us,” he said angrily. “She’s been flitting around Europe and South America all this time, shacking up with one rich wizard after the next. She’s nothing but a slag!”

“Abraxas! That’s your mother you’re talking about!”

“I don’t give a shit who she is! You have no idea what she put Father through, George. No one…NO one…treats a Malfoy like that!” Abraxas jumped up and paced madly. “She kidnapped Paige, you know!”

“Kidnapped her?” I exclaimed. “How did she get past your father?”

“Father was gone. Actually, he was with me.” Abraxas sighed heavily. “Paige was home with Andromeda, sort of babysitting while Father and Greta took me out. When we came back, Paige was gone.”

“What about Andromeda? Was she alright?”

“Why would my mother be interested in Andromeda? To her, Andromeda was some other bitch’s brat. Anyway, Father was frantic and fucking pissed off, so he took off straight for the Parkinson estate to try and locate Mother and Paige.”

“So what about you? What did you do?”

“Greta stayed at home with Andromeda, and Freddy and Aurora came with me to search for Paige, based on what info Father gave us—we went all over Europe, Mexico, Argentina. No sign of her at all. We came back after a couple of weeks, and then I joined Father in the search. He heard rumours that she might be somewhere in Dubai, so he and I rushed there to find her.”

“And?”

“We found Mother, but no Paige. She was shacked up with some short, fat old bastard, living off his millions. And then, she had to the nerve to tell Father that he’d never see Paige again and besides…” Abraxas trailed off, suddenly unable to speak. “She said that Paige isn’t…his, that she was the product of an affair.” Abraxas sat down again. I thought he might cry.

“Did you know that?” I asked.

Abraxas shook his head. “I sort of suspected, but no, I didn’t know for sure.”

“So what did your father do?” I asked, desperate to hear more.

“I thought he might kill her right there on the spot,” Abraxas admitted. “He said he knew she wasn’t his biological daughter.”

“He knew? But he never told you?”

Abraxas nodded. “Father didn’t care. He’d raised her himself and she was as much a Malfoy as me or him. But telling that to a kid isn’t a good idea. He didn’t want her to feel like an outsider, and he didn’t want me to treat her differently. At least that’s my assumption.”

“But you still didn’t find her there?” This was astonishing! I felt sick as I listened further.

“Not for another two days.”

“Where was she?”

Abraxas rolled his eyes and laughed mournfully. “In London, if you can believe it. At an old flat that belonged to the Parkinson family ages ago. She’d placed anti-apparation charms on it so Paige couldn’t get out.”

“So what were your mother’s plans for Paige?”

“I don’t really know,” Abraxas admitted. “I suppose she’d take her to Dubai or Brazil or something. Somewhere far away. But once we got her back home, Father and I made extra sure that she’d be safe from now on. Your uncle Ron helped. He put a special trace on her so that wherever she goes, we’ll know exactly where she is. The Ministry uses it to track criminals who are out on parole.”

“Is that why it’s OK for Paige to be here with you today?” I wondered.

Abraxas nodded. “Father is at the Ministry to press charges against Mother. He didn’t want to leave Paige alone again. She’s pretty freaked out by all this, and she wants to stay close to family right now. But I have to be sure no one comes after her again. Your father and Professor Snape are placing special charms and enchantments on Malfoy Manor to secure it against further intrusion.”

“What an awful ordeal, Abraxas,” I said mournfully. “I’m so sorry about all this.”

“Thanks, mate,” he replied. “That means a lot. You know, your brother was a real life-saver these last couple of weeks. I think I would have fallen apart if Freddy hadn’t been there. You have no idea how much your family means to me, George. You are real friends. I love all of you more than you will ever know.”

What could I say? I felt so relieved that Paige was back and unharmed and I felt so enraged by what her mother had done, and I felt so moved by Abraxas’ outpouring of emotion for his family and for mine.

“Whatever I can do, Abraxas,” I said. “Just tell me.”

“Thanks. Say, I think Paige is waiting for you. She’s eager to see you again. I’ll take care of these toys, and thanks for bringing them. You go on, and don’t be afraid to talk to her. She’s fine.”

“You’re a good brother, Abraxas,” I said.

We stood up and shook hands. Abraxas took hold of the crate, but before he moved it, he stopped and grinned at me.

“She told me, you know, that she molested you at Freddy’s party.”

I blushed. “Well, I sorta let her.” I laughed.

“Be nice to her, alright? I think she’s crazy in love with you.”

* * * * *

I found Paige in Abraxas’ office, filing her nails and whistling a tune. I shut the door behind me quietly, as if any slight noise might upset her.

“He told you, I suppose, what happened,” she said, not looking up.

“Are you okay?” I asked. I sat down on the opposite side of the grubby desk.

“Mostly. Just tired. Happy to be back home.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. Not yet. Maybe in time.”

We stood up at the same time and rushed to each other. I held her tightly in my arms, only wanting to keep her safe and unharmed. Paige sniffled.

“She didn’t hurt me or anything, so don’t worry,” she said. “I was never in danger.”

“Me not worry? I worried about you every day. I had no idea what had happened, Paige,” I said. “I’m so relieved you’re here and okay.”

Paige smiled sweetly and wrapped her arms around my neck. “I love you, George,” she whispered.

“I love you, too.” I kissed her lips gently, tenderly. We stayed like that for a long while, just kissing and talking and reconnecting. It hadn’t occurred to me just how strongly attached to her that I felt until that long absence, and to my surprise, I found that I couldn’t let her go. I wanted to be a part of the team to keep her safe from her mother, but I wanted to be more than that.

After a while, I sent an owl home to let my parents know where I was, and then later, with Paige and Abraxas, helped serve dinner at the shelter. As I watched the people traipse past, with paper plates and plastic cups in hand, I wondered just how many of them were Magically Challenged. I couldn’t just up and ask like that. That would be pretty rude. But I felt all the more compelled to learn more about these people. Perhaps the funds Mr. Malfoy gave me could help them in some way.

“So how do I find out?” I asked later that evening. 

The staff were busy cleaning up the kitchen after all the clients had left for the night or had gone to their sleeping quarters at the shelter. Abraxas had stayed behind to continue his work on the food bank, but he took a little time to sit with me and Paige—in fact, the two of us pitched in and helped him sort through everything. It was a daunting task.

“Do you have records that track that sort of thing?” I asked Abraxas.

“Any records I have of personal information is confidential,” he said.

“Why do you want their records?” Paige asked.

“I want to talk to people,” I said. “I want to interview them and get some idea of how they feel they’re being treated by wizarding society.”

Abraxas raised his eyebrows. “So you’re serious, then? About looking into the matter?”

“Let’s just say I have a million reasons to find out now.”

Paige grinned. It was so wonderful to see her pretty smile—my heart rejoiced.

“So is that how you’re going to use Father’s money?” Abraxas asked.

“I don’t know yet,” I confessed. “But I reckon I need to talk to some people and get some impressions so that I know how to move forward.”

“How very scientific of you,” Paige pronounced, imitating Cousin Severus. We all laughed.

* * * * *

The next day, I wondered how much to tell my family. I had indicated in my note that I was with Paige, but I didn’t really go into detail, and by the time I arrived home from the shelter, everyone was already in bed. I didn’t sleep much that night—I was filled with so many conflicting emotions. I was happy, confused, angry, relieved…but in love? I told Paige I loved her, and I did. I really did. But I also wanted to be sure it wasn’t just brotherly love or simple friendship. 

Knowing what I did now had changed things. Paige was suddenly fragile, vulnerable, potentially a victim of a terrible crime. Thank the gods she wasn’t injured or killed. Still, seeing her this way, I couldn’t just take her presence for granted any more. She was more than just a friend.

But was that love or was I panicking again? Why couldn’t I just come out and admit it, that I really did have strong feelings for her that went beyond simple friendship? Maybe I was being too self conscious or something. After all, my own future was extremely uncertain, even with a vault full of Malfoy gold. And maybe I just needed to take more of my anti-worry potion.

“You didn’t finish your eggs,” Dad said at the breakfast table.

“Sorry. I guess I’m not too hungry this morning.”

My mood remained glum throughout the day, even interfering with my salesmanship at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Fortunately, my uncles were rather sympathetic.

“I’ve seen that look before, Fred,” uncle George said wryly.

“I’ve seen you with that look, George,” uncle Fred replied. “The day you snogged Alicia Spinnet. Remember?”

Uncle George rolled his eyes. “Thanks for that reminder, Fred,” he said bitterly. He scowled a bit.

I decided to change the subject. “Say, do you know how many of your customers are Magically Challenged?” I asked.

They looked at each other, puzzled. Uncle George shrugged.

“I have no idea,” he said. “I don’t suppose too many, but I have no idea.”

“Do you mind if ask why you say you don’t suppose too many?” I asked.

He shrugged again, clearly uncomfortable with being put on the spot. “I suppose I just assume that only witches and wizards would be interested in our products.”

“Is that because they involve magic?”

Uncle George threw a pleading glance at his twin.

“Why?” uncle Fred asked.

“I was just wondering,” I replied. “I guess I’m just curious, since I don’t really know too many Squi…Magically Challenged individuals.”

“I thought your best friend was Magically Challenged!” uncle George exclaimed.

“Well he is!” I said. “I mean, I know a few kids at school who are Magically Challenged, but not out in the real world.”

“We don’t turn anyone away, George,” uncle Fred said defencively.

“No, I mean, I didn’t want to suggest anything like that, uncle Fred,” I replied, suddenly feeling terribly guilty. “It’s just that I wonder how invisible the Magically Challenged really are.”

It was a fair thought. I mean, I really didn’t know. In a lot of ways, my upbringing was so sheltered and protected, perhaps because of who my parents are and who their friends are. It was a sort of rarified atmosphere filled with people who always accepted me in spite of my challenges, and I never really had to face outward discrimination or abuse—except from Mulciber, of course, but that was at school. As I spoke to my uncles, I saw more and more that I needed to come out from the protective veil my family had laid before me, and see the Magically Challenged for who they really were.

After work that day, I stopped at Flourish and Blott’s, hoping to pick up the latest copy of _The Weekly Snitch_ , the newest and best Quidditch magazine around. The pictures were amazing, always in high colour, always super fast and exciting. They interviewed all the best players and got information about their personal lives, which always interested me. Because of my Mum’s work, I got to meet a lot of Quidditch players around the world—in fact, the legendary Viktor Krum was a close personal friend of Aunt Hermione, something I thought was eternally cool.

So anyway, I walked into Flourish and Blott’s, and the first thing that caught my eye was a new book by Nola Magless, called _Hard Times: A Squib’s Life_. My heart sank. I could suddenly see Theo and Nick and Aidan and June on the dole or shacking up at the homeless shelter or having to get some awful muggle job somewhere, rather than a nice, respectable job in our world. The reality of what it represented made me not want to know any more than the tragic look on the author’s face on the back cover of the book. On the other hand, this was exactly what I was looking for in terms of research.

How could I resist? Unable to see Paige for a few days, I delved into Magless’ book—it was a long, hard read. I identified all too much with much of what Magless endured, though on a much smaller scale.

She first talked about the stigma of being Magically Challenged—her mother nearly had her adopted out of the family altogether, and it was only because of her grandmother that the family stopped its plans to get rid of her. But that didn’t mean that all was well at home. In fact, Magless become the object of embarrassment and scorn—her mother continued to resent her presence, and even though she was one of the first Squibs to attend Hogwarts, her parents continually told her she would never amount to anything.

I couldn’t understand such callousness, such real hatred of an innocent child. After all, what was her crime, other than to be Magically Challenged? These were supposed to be more enlightened days, where the Magically Challenged could shake off the stigma and be treated like anyone else. That was true for me, for Theo, and for Nick, Aidan and June. I presumed that every other Squib was treated the same way by family—I am ashamed of how naïve I was. The more I read Magless’ book, the angrier I felt. I was so fortunate to have such a wonderful family filled with acceptance, but why me and not others? Why couldn’t someone like Nola Magless have such support? It didn’t seem fair.

I had to talk to someone—I had to talk to Theo.


	20. On the Warpath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Freddy stopped and eyed me carefully. “Are you OK?”_
> 
> _The question threw me for a second. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied._
> 
> _He frowned. “You suck at lying.”_
> 
> _“I suck at a lot of things.”_
> 
> _Freddy grinned. “Oh come on! You’re about ten times more clever than I. You could usually beat me at wrestling, too.”_
> 
> _“You bet your life I could! Look, Freddy, do me a favour, alright?”_
> 
> _“Anything.”_
> 
> _“Treat everyone who walks through those doors, no matter what. Will you do that?"_
> 
> _“Sure, George.”_

Normally I’m not the secretive type. My life is pretty much an open book, to be honest. When your father is a Legilimens, after all, it’s pretty near to impossible to hide anything. Being no Occlumens, I had to find other ways of guarding my thoughts, though I will admit that for the most part, Dad never unfairly invaded my mind. Usually it was when I was in trouble or was caught in a lie.

I must have been silently rampaging one evening in late July, because later, as I was getting ready for bed, Dad came into the bathroom to talk to me. I could see by his facial expression that this was something serious. I finished brushing my teeth, trying to act as casually as I could.

“How’s Paige?” Dad asked. He sat down on the edge of the bathtub.

“I haven’t seen her in a few days,” I said.

“You want me to apparate you there tomorrow?”

“Sure! That would be great! Thanks.”

He frowned a little. “I know I’ve been neglecting you a bit these days.”

“You don’t have to explain, Dad. I know you’re busy with work and with Freddy.”

“It’s not an excuse,” he replied. Dad was always so hard on himself. I felt bad for him. “Severus told me about your recent disappointment.”

I wished he hadn’t brought that up. Just when I had almost gotten over the worst of my disappointment, it all came flooding back to me, more bitterly than ever. “It’s OK, Dad,” I replied, trying to sound braver than I felt. “It’s just a reality I need to face. Professor McGonagall did me a favour by being honest with me.”

It was an odd place to have such a deep conversation.

“Once things calm down in a couple of weeks, I think you and I need to sit down together with Severus and really hash out something concrete so you can move ahead and not fall behind.”

I nodded in agreement. “That sounds good, Dad,” I replied simply. I struggled to focus on whatever plan I was sure he was going to propose. “Dad, I’ve done a lot of thinking about what I might want to do after Hogwarts, or even…” I wanted to say _instead of Hogwarts_ , but I didn’t dare. I knew he would never go for that, no matter how noble I thought my intentions were.

He knew. I was sure. Dad raised an eyebrow. “You know that no matter what you want to do, you will accomplish twice as much with your education.”

“I know, Dad.”

“I know how it is to be driven by high ideals, George.”

“Exactly! So if I can do something significant now, then shouldn’t I go for it?”

Dad chuckled. “You can, but you still need to stay with your education.”

“But my education is all messed up now, Dad! I’m not on track with anyone any more. I’m not really in anyone’s class or year or anything!” It suddenly struck me that I was still holding my dripping toothbrush. I set it down on the counter and dried my hands on a towel.

“What do you want to do, George?” he asked sternly.

“See, I’ve been doing some reading about the plight of Squibs and…”

“George, don’t use that word!”

“Sorry, Dad. Magically Challenged. Anyway, there are so many problems and so much inequality, and I want to be involved in helping them out!” I looked at him hopefully, sure he’d see my reasoning. After all, he was as much an idealist as I apparently was.

Dad stood up and put both hands on my shoulders. “Let me tell you something, George. Before I plunged myself into most things, I always did careful research. Well, most of the time. The situation with Squibs…”

“Magically Challenged,” I reminded him.

He blushed. “Magically Challenged. It’s a complicated situation and…”

“I know, Dad.”

“And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t interrupt me just now,” he said gently. Suddenly, he looked around and scowled. “Can we not have this conversation in the bathroom? Let’s go to your room, yeah?”

Together, Dad and I sat down on my messy, unmade bed to continue our talk.

“George,” Dad said, “I don’t want you running headlong into a situation that’s overly complex for you.”

“I can handle complexity, Dad,” I shot back. He was making me feel like a little boy, something I resented just then. “I’m not an idiot.”

“I never said you were an idiot, George, but you’ve got to understand that this whole issue goes back centuries.”

“I know that, Dad…”

But he cut across me. “You need to take some time, do more reading, start asking a lot of questions, talk to people. You need to know every facet of this issue so you can operate from knowledge, not just from passion. Passion isn’t enough, and if fact, it’ll kick your arse if you’re not careful.”

He had a point. I suppose it was a bad idea to go off half-cocked into such a monumental situation, where so many things could go wrong if I didn’t know what I was doing. On the other hand…

“But how can I talk to people when I’m locked away at Hogwarts?” I persisted.

“You still have a full month of your holiday, George,” Dad replied. “If you use it well, you can get a lot done.”

“But there’s only so much I can do in a month, Dad,” I insisted. “Who can I talk to in just a month?”

Dad narrowed his eyes at me. “Hear me very clearly, George,” he said. “There is no way in hell that I am going to allow you to stop your education, no matter what. Do you understand me?”

“But…”

“George!” Dad snapped. “If I have to transfigure you and carry you to Hogwarts personally in a briefcase, then I will. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” I conceded. I knew he was right, but internally, I revolted.

* * * * *

Suddenly, my life got really busy.

Reluctantly, I quit my job with my uncles. I felt bad, but not that bad. I had tons of fun with them, working in the shop, but other things had come up in my life. I had a lot of work to do, and tons of research to conduct. What I would do with this research remained vague to me, but it had to be done, if for no other reason than to give me some direction. Plus, it would have felt rather awkward to approach specific individuals and ask them about how they were treated by wizard society, and so, I decided to go with my instinct and start with Theo, Nick and Aidan.

Quite frankly, Theo shocked me. He was busy with a summer course in computer technology, ready to fulfill his own dream of success and acceptance in the muggle world. I felt bad about that somehow. It was good that he was pursuing something he enjoyed, but that he had to go outside our world seemed unfair to me. We met at the Leaky Cauldron for lunch, before I headed off to the Wizarding National Archives. I told him all about my reading, my horror at what was going on, my anger at the injustice leveled at the Magically Challenged. Theo laughed.

“Did you know that your vote will count less than mine in any election or referendum?” I asked him pointedly.

Theo smirked. “And that’s news?”

“The Magically Challenged have to fill out an entirely different voter registration form, and then, their votes only count half as much as wizard votes! Doesn’t that anger you?” I pressed.

“Yeah. So what am I supposed to do?” He shrugged diffidently and took a bite of his roast beef sandwich.

“So you go to vote for Minister, and so what if no one cares two shits about your opinion?” I was getting pretty steamed.

“I didn’t say so what.”

“You did say so what. You just did!”

Theo sighed. “I was being sarcastic, dimwit, if you couldn’t tell. Look, George, we both know that there’s a major caste system in our world and that I’m at the very bottom of it. Certain magical creatures get more regard than Squibs.”

“Well I’m only two steps higher,” I said, trying to sound conciliatory.

“That’s bullshit, George. You’re the cream of the bloody crop.”

“Right, the sixteen year old who can’t master First Year spells? Get real, Theo.”

Theo laughed. “Number one, you ARE a wizard, even if your magic is crap. That opens doors that are closed to me, regardless of ability. Second, you’re a Chaucer and a Weasley, which carries a lot of weight around here. Your cousin is Hogwarts Headmaster, your grandfather was Minister for Magic, Harry Potter is a family friend, and your father is a superhero. Shall I go on?”

“And you’re a Scrimgeour! That means a lot, too!”

Theo sat back and folded his arms across his chest. “Exactly. People might not mess with me because of my grandfather, but if you think that gets me any more rights, you’re quite mistaken.”

“Maybe we should work together on this,” I suggested. It made a lot of sense.

But Theo shook his head. “Forget it, George. I’m not interested in saving the Magically Challenged. That’s for the Chaucers of the world. I’m happy where I am. I like the work I’m getting into, and I’ve made some good muggle friends. I don’t have some huge conflict over this, unlike you.”

“I don’t have a conflict!” I said defencively.

Theo grinned. “Of course you do, mate! And it’s great that you do because you’re the sort of person who will do something about it. But don’t think of me as you’re working out the situation. Think of the Jessups. They don’t have any high connections or famous relatives. They’re the type that you really need to worry about.”

The whole way to the National Archives, I had visions of Nick, Aidan and June standing on the street corner, waiting outside the homeless shelter for Abraxas to open the doors for them. They were ragged and depressed and beaten down, entirely without hope.

At the Archives, I ran into a bit of trouble, not sure if I had enough magic to get in. I knew the incantation. I was supposed to tap on the steel door four times and say _aperi tabulae_. Unsure of my abilities, I took a deep breath, pulled out my wand and hoped for the best.

Tap tap tap tap.

“Aperi tabulae!” I said as firmly as I could.

Nothing.

Dammit! This was so frustrating! I nearly kicked the door with my foot, but then I thought better of it—the door looked pretty solid. Trying to calm myself down, I decided to try again.

Tap tap tap tap.

“Aperi tabulae!” I repeated.

Nothing. Was I tapping on the wrong part of the door? No one ever specified which part was the right place. Or maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe my magic was so horrible that I couldn’t even open a stupid damn door! Sorry. Lost control there. I tried again, three more times until on the seventh attempt, the door finally clicked open.

Dad always talked about the National Archives as if it were church. High ceilings, shelves and dusty shelves of all sorts of books, parchments, scrolls, boxes, even trunks. I was impressed, to say the least. For a nerdy kid like me, this was a very dangerous place—a kid like me could ostensibly spend the rest of his life in here, wiling away the hours reading, researching, learning. But the place was so big, so overwhelming that I needed some guidance.

The Archivist was a sort of dotty old lady with a huge beehive hairdo and way too much makeup. But she was absolutely brilliant when it came to finding stuff.

“I remember your first trip here, love,” she said very maternally. “Making all those potions!”

I laughed. “Oh yes, that’s my father who did that. I’m George Weasley-Chaucer, ma’am, Nigel’s son.”

“George Weasley?” she said. “No. He’s got red hair.”

“George Weasley is my uncle, ma’am. His sister, Ginny, is my mother.”

She frowned. “I thought she married Harry Potter.”

“No ma’am,” I said. “They dated a little when they were at school, but Harry is married to someone else.”

She gave me a sweet smile and patted my cheek. “See what happens when you spend too much time in here? You lose all sense of the outside world! Now then, dear, what were you looking for?”

“Anything on wizard law regarding the Magically Challenged. Squibs.”

“My father is a Squib,” she said.

“Was he happy in life?” I asked.

She frowned a bit. “No. He drank far too much and rarely had work. Pity.” With that, she scurried away to find some resources for me.

I sort of set up shop at a big table near her work station and laid out my quill, ink and parchment, already filled with notes from my previous readings. She took a long time—at least a half hour, to gather everything she thought I would need. Every five minutes or so she’d drop something on the table and disappear again, until finally, the table was filled with all sorts of materials.

As I looked through the first couple of books, she sat down opposite me, giving me a very stern look.

“You’re planning a project?” she asked. “Something to do with Squibs?”

“Something like that.”

“Is this for school or for life?”

“For life. For real.”

“There’s a lot of very old prejudices you’re up against, even if they use words like _Magically Challenged_ ,” she said bitterly. “Don’t let their politically correct attitude fool you for a second, dearie. I saw what that prejudice did to my father and his best friend. Do your research very carefully.”

And then she got up and walked away.

* * * * *

July 31 promised to be an excellent day, but a little sad, too. On the one hand, it was Dad’s birthday, as well as Harry Potter’s, and so our family and his decided to have a massive party at our house, with all sorts of family and friends invited, both wizard and muggle alike. I’d get to see Paige again, too, which excited me very much. 

Since her return, I didn’t get to see nearly as much of Paige as I wanted, mainly because of me—had I known how to apparate properly without having to have a nervous breakdown first, I could have seen Paige every day. And she didn’t know how to apparate yet, either, so we were both stuck. Her father was adamant about keeping a very close watch on her until she boarded the train for Hogwarts again. I heard that he was sending a bodyguard to escort her to school, though I wasn’t sure if that was true.

But tomorrow, Freddy would be gone, starting his new life—the life I would never know. It was a hard night in a lot of ways, but not just for selfish reasons. Freddy looked so happy that night, so filled with excitement and anticipation and a bit of worry at what he faced tomorrow. Doubtless, Dad had regaled him with the stories of his own experience as an intern, complete with the awful Chief of Staff who made Dad’s life a living hell for a while.

I’d miss him terribly. Sure, he’d be living at home, but he’d be spending nearly all his time at St. Mungo's, taking classes, doing homework, learning all the intricacies of the Healing arts. I saw him laughing and joking with Abraxas and Aurora and some of their other friends, telling stories about narrow escapes from Mr. Filch or about the awful things they had to do in detention during their time at school. But suddenly, Freddy looked over at me. The glance he gave me told me he wanted to talk, alone. I retreated to his room, and he followed me close behind.

I sat on the floor—Freddy sat across from me, just like when we were kids, tossing the Quaffle back and forth to each other.

“You having a good time tonight?” he asked.

“Great!” I replied.

“Sorry to rip you from Paige and all.”

I laughed. “It’s OK. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“Bad business, that. You have no idea what Abraxas went through when we were all looking for her. She looks good now. Rested.”

“I guess she’s pretty much been under lock and key since she got back, yeah?”

Freddy rolled his eyes. “I went to see Abraxas the other day, and he said that his father—actually our father and Severus—charmed Paige to make her invisible to outsiders and intruders when she’s at Malfoy Manor. It’s cool because she can be outside, and anyone not on the property won’t be able to see her.”

“That is cool,” I said, impressed. “That presumes no one can climb the privet to come inside.”

“They also created a perimeter around the property so that if anyone tries to break through, they’ll get a really nasty stinging hex, so bad it’ll knock them out cold.” Freddy stopped and eyed me carefully. “Are you OK?”

The question threw me for a second. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied.

He frowned. “You suck at lying.”

“I suck at a lot of things.”

Freddy grinned. “Oh come on! You’re about ten times more clever than I. You could usually beat me at wrestling, too.”

“You bet your life I could! Look, Freddy, do me a favour, alright?”

“Anything.”

“Treat everyone who walks through those doors, no matter what. Will you do that?"

“Sure, George.” He sniffled. “You’re amazing, you know? Stay the same, no matter how ugly the world appears to you.” And then he reached forward and pulled me into a huge bear hug, holding me for a couple of minutes, still sniffling. Finally, Freddy pulled away and rubbed his eyes.

Together we returned to the party, where I danced with Paige and then retired with her to a dark corner of the back garden for a little quiet time together before she went back under lock and key. Curiously, it was the same spot where I stood with Ellie back in December—I tried not to let that take away from the present sweetness before me. Paige and I held each other close, kissed a little, talked seldom. She and Freddy showed me something that night.

They showed me what magic really is.


	21. Back to School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I found myself almost begging to take Muggle Studies, which would have been a new subject for me._
> 
> _“Why do you want to take that course?” McGonagall asked me._
> 
> _“Because muggles have made some real advances in the way they treat the disadvantaged members of society. I want to learn more about what they do for their own people.”_
> 
> _“What do you hope to accomplish through all this?”_
> 
> _“New attitudes,” I replied. “New laws maybe.”_
> 
> _She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Are you sure you know what you’re getting into?”_
> 
> _“Not really,” I admitted._

“Mum, don’t!” Freddy exclaimed, trying to pull away.

“My Freddy, off to Healer training,” Mum gushed. “Oh, honey! You look so handsome and responsible!”

Freddy threw me a lethal look as I laughed at the spectacle.

“Mum!” he groaned.

He stood at the door, ready to go to his first class, briefcase in hand, dressed in new robes, looking like a prat. Actually, I was horribly jealous of him still, but I knew I couldn’t dwell on it or allow my feelings to spoil Freddy’s day. It tore at my heart to watch him take his lunch, allow himself to be petted and pampered by Mum, while Dad and I stood by and watched, trying not to laugh. But I spotted a tear in Dad’s eye, too.

He gathered Freddy into a huge hug and held him for a moment—it was a beautiful thing to see, truly. It was like Freddy was six years old again, going off to the Patil Academy for the first day of school.

“Have a great day, son,” Dad said.

“I will, Dad,” Freddy replied. And then, Freddy turned to me.

I didn’t know what to say.

“Good luck,” I blurted out. Actually, if I managed to say anything further, I would have said something extremely stupid or disgustingly sappy. I decided to maintain my dignity and Freddy’s, too.

“Thanks, George,” he replied. He clapped me on the back in a sort of half-hug, but I knew what he meant.

We watched Freddy walk down the street half a block and turn into an alley, from where we knew he apparated to school—my school. Dad put a hand on my shoulder and mussed Will’s hair. We could hear Tom and Lydia bickering again over something—who knew what it was this time? They battled almost every day, and over the most trivial things. Mum rolled her eyes and let them bicker.

“And to think I have to take those two shopping for new robes today,” she lamented. Dad gave her a kiss on the cheek.

He cuffed me on the shoulder. “So it’s just you and me today, George,” he said. “How would you like to make a visit to Paige and the Malfoys?”

“Excellent!” I exclaimed. Was I too enthusiastic? Hard to tell. Either way, it meant I got to see Paige again. Anything to stop from thinking about Freddy at Healer training.

I knew what Dad would do there. He’d spend all morning with Mr. Malfoy, holed up in the library, talking about old times and about politics, then Dad would tell him about some new potion he and Severus were working on, and then Mr. Malfoy would rag on his ex-wife for a while. They might have an argument and then make up.

But I had other plans. Certain that Paige would be at home, and hoping she would be eager to see me, I hoped to steal a few hours of quality alone time with her on some remote part of the property. I dared not go into her bedroom, fearing that I might lose control of myself and do something incredibly irresponsible and stupid. We were far too young for that, though Abraxas swears that his father was going at it early on, from age fifteen. Figures.

Yes, Dad and I were warmly welcomed and yes, Paige was delighted to see me. But she was currently embroiled in some deep discussion with Abraxas and her father about politics and social justice. From what I could tell upon entering the grand library, Abraxas was in the process of explaining to his father about the plight of the people he served at the Wizarding Social Welfare Service. Dad smirked.

“Forget it, Abraxas,” he said as the House Elf ushered us in. “Your father is hopeless.”

“Shut up, Chaucer,” Mr. Malfoy sniped. “Who asked you to come in?”

“Nice to see you, too, Malfoy,” Dad replied.

As we joined them around the unlit fireplace, the Elf brought us both glasses of mead and a heaping plate of ham sandwiches for everyone. The bread was nutty and delicious.

“So, Chaucer,” Mr. Malfoy said, “got the kid packed off to school?”

Dad beamed. “That program is going to kick his arse.”

“Well let’s just hope he doesn’t kill anyone,” Mr. Malfoy joked.

Dad blanched. “Very funny,” he said.

Mr. Malfoy sensed he needed to change the subject. “So George,” he said very silkily, “what have you done with my money? Hopefully not gambled it all away in Monte Carlo or donated it to some awful muggle institution.”

“Actually, sir, I’m doing some research,” I replied, trying to sound responsible and professional.

“On the homeless?” Abraxas asked.

“On the Magically Challenged,” I replied. “And more specifically, how they’re treated by wizard law and wizard culture. I’ve started to research the law pretty extensively, but there’s just tons more information out there to learn.”

“So what do you hope to accomplish with this?” Mr. Malfoy asked, now curious.

“I want to figure out how to change the law and influence public opinion, too,” I replied resolutely, though I had no idea how to accomplish this huge task. In fact, that was the first moment where some precise purpose became clear to me.

Dad raised an eyebrow, but Mr. Malfoy grinned. And Abraxas looked positively thrilled.

“We could really do something, George,” he said eagerly. “We could team up our efforts or something, you know? Make something really worthwhile!”

“Maybe,” I said. “But I’m really focusing on the Magically Challenged, not just on the homeless.”

“Exactly! The Wizarding Social Welfare Service needs to pay more specific attention to the Magically Challenged so that fewer of them become homeless!” Abraxas retorted. He had a point. “I have some good connections that you can use, including a witch who is a real expert on public policy.”

“Regarding the Magically Challenged?” I think the two of us suddenly forgot there were three other people in the room. I even forgot that Paige was in the room—well, I didn’t really forget, I…just got a bit overly involved.

“It just seems to me that you and I have similar groups of interest, and if we combine our efforts, we might be able to do something.”

“Perhaps,” I conceded. “I guess my only concern is that our specific issues are pretty different, I mean, you’re working to give relief to all the homeless, whereas I’m looking more at civil rights for the Magically Challenged.”

“Your work doesn’t have to be identical,” Paige interjected. “Like George said, your goals are pretty different.”

“Not that different,” Abraxas said.

“No, they are different,” Paige said. “I mean, you both want to bring relief, but for different reasons.”

“Tell you what, George,” Abraxas said. “Let’s keep in touch this year, so that as you keep doing research and talking to people, we can get better plan of attack, alright?”

“Sounds great!” I replied.

* * * * *

Her kiss smoldered, burned deep, washed me through in waves of intense pleasure. Paige and I lay under a tree on the grounds of Malfoy Manor, wrapped up in each other’s arms, not wanting to let go.

“You better now?” I asked.

She giggled. “Much.”

I blushed lightly. “I meant since you got back,” I said.

She giggled again. “I know what you meant. I love you, George. I think I always have.”

“I love you, too.”

* * * * *

**September 1, 2020  
King’s Cross Station, London  
Platform 9 ¾**

We held hands, fingers interlaced, the entire trip back to Hogwarts—that is, until Paige had to visit the Prefects’ compartment and check in to get her duties when we arrived at Hogsmeade station. I was proud of her, that she had gotten such an important role—her father had been Prefect, but Abraxas was not, so Mr. Malfoy was particularly proud of his daughter. I was not a Prefect, but it didn’t bother me much. I had so much to do, both in continuing my magic lessons with Professor McGonagall and working on my project that becoming Prefect would have been too much for me.

On the train, with the other First Years, just as Aurora had told us before, was Vernon H. Dursley II, son of Harry Potter’s cousin and childhood tormentor. No one quite knew what to expect from the boy, considering the family he came from. Would he be like his father, or would he perhaps be more like his cousin? I remember how loads of people made excuses to leave their compartments just to get a look at Dursley, to see if he resembled Potter at all. Even Paige ducked out to get a look.

“So what’s he like?” Theo asked.

“Round,” Paige said, smiling. “He’s so small, like a roly-poly quaffle!”

“As long as he doesn’t turn into a bludger,” Aidan said. We all laughed.

“Just keep him away from Mulciber,” Theo quipped.

“I wonder what house he’ll get,” June pondered.

“Hufflepuff,” Paige said.

“Nah, I call Slytherin,” Theo guessed. “I don’t think he’s got the brains for Ravenclaw.”

“Thanks a lot, Scrimgeour!” I said, laughing. “Such a friend.”

But then I stopped laughing as I spied Ellie and Malachi walking past our compartment, hand in hand.

“Althea will be pissed,” Nick said.

“I can’t wait to see her take Ellie down in a girl fight,” June said, smirking.

“They deserve each other,” Paige said. Theo threw me a concerned look.

“Maybe,” I replied. “I hope a snob like Zabini doesn’t care that Ellie’s muggle-born.”

My mood dimmed a bit after that, getting darker the closer we got to Hogwarts. The burden of my upcoming year, with everything I needed to get done, loomed ahead, giving rise to too many overwhelming questions. What exactly would I do with all that information. So what if I learned all about wizard law? So what if I knew about the grim reality of a Squib’s future? I was just sixteen years old! Whatever I could do would have to wait at least ten years—regardless of who my father was, I felt sure that no one would take an unqualified, barely magical wizard very seriously.

To my amazement, Professor McGonagall disagreed.

We met briefly upon our arrival, before the Start of Term Feast, where she filled me in on what I would be doing the next day.

“Well, Mr. Weasley-Chaucer, I hope you’re ready for a rapid start this term,” she said to me in the corridor.

“I am, Professor. In fact, I have a few ideas I’d like to discuss with you,” I replied, as confidently as I could.

“Your cousin tells me you have begun a project.”

How did Severus know? Oh yeah, Dad must have told him. I always forget how close they are.

“I want to be sure that I’m in specific classes this year, Professor, because I need to keep myself informed on certain areas of study if I am to succeed in this project.” Geez! I was sounding way too much like Dad. It worried me.

She smiled at me and patted my shoulder. “Well, we’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Off to the feast with me.

I sat at the Slytherin table next to Tom, eagerly awaiting the Sorting of little Vernon Dursley. He toddled in with the rest of the brand new First Years, looking scared and curious and overwhelmed. He looked nothing like Harry Potter. Little Dursley was small and round and sort of pink in the face, with a thicket of black hair on his head, and a stunning pair of emerald green eyes, which reminded me very much of Harry’s.

Professor Sinistra, the new Deputy Head, ran the sorting. I remember Severus’ wife, Allegra, talking about Professor Sinistra, but it was a long time ago. Aurora was named after her, apparently, though I was never told why. Dad says it’s a long story.

“Dursley, Vernon!” she called out.

The little boy looked about nervously, then made his way shakily up to the stool. Sinistra placed the Sorting Hat on his head. We all waited, dying with curiosity.

“HUFFLEPUFF!” it declared. The Hufflepuff table burst into wild applause.

I glanced over my shoulder at Paige, who winked at me from the Gryffindor table. We laughed and watched as Nick and Aidan shook little Dursley’s hand and helped to welcome him to Hufflepuff House. They truly were peacemakers. I couldn’t wait to tell Dad.

* * * * *

The next morning, I had a very long meeting with Professor McGonagall in her office, after breakfast. I watched with a fair amount of envy as all my friends, both wizard and Magically Challenged, receive their NEWT schedules and make their way to class. My case, as always, was unusual, and it amazed me that I had to negotiate so much to get the classes I wanted. I found myself almost begging, especially when I wanted to take Muggle Studies, which would have been a new subject for me.

“Why do you want to take that course?” McGonagall asked me.

“Because muggles have made some real advances in the way they treat the disadvantaged members of society. I want to learn more about what they do for their own people.”

“What do you hope to accomplish through all this?”

“New attitudes,” I replied. “New laws maybe.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Are you sure you know what you’re getting into?”

“Not really,” I admitted. “That’s why I need a few accommodations this year.”

“Accommodations?”

“I need to be free to continue my research on public policy,” I explained. “During August I spent quite a lot of time at the National Archives researching all aspects of wizard law and history regarding the treatment of the Magically Challenged and I still have a long way to go before I can really form a specific and directed plan of action that is feasible for the near future.”

Silence. I sounded like a total prat, and my guess was that she was either trying not to laugh or struggling to find a nice way to tell me to shut up.

“You are aware, Mr. Weasley-Chaucer,” she started, rather haughtily, “that you are still a student?”

I decided to challenge her. Dad would have done the same thing, I was sure. “Am I?” I asked skeptically.

She frowned. “Of course you are! What do you mean?”

“That I’m not exactly on the usual schedule, Professor. I took a grand total of three OWLs, and my magical skills are below First Year standard, so no, I’m not exactly the usual student at this school.” I sounded a bit rude, but I didn’t care.

“George, you have a long way to go with regards to your magic,” she explained. “If you are to succeed out there in the wizarding world, you simply must apply yourself to the study of magic. Public policy will remain relatively the same, as it has for years and years.”

“But that’s the problem!”

Professor McGonagall sighed. “George, you’re amazing. I admire your passion and determination, and if you can really do something to influence public policy, then I applaud you. But you must finish your education first. You must understand that.”

I did, but I didn’t like that reality. My plans were much bigger than that. “Professor, I’m not asking something every day or anything.”

“What did you have in mind, then?” she asked.

“Well, see, Abraxas Malfoy is sort of helping me with this project, and so I need to have access to his place of work…”

“You mean the Wizarding Social Welfare office?”

“Well, the homeless shelter the office runs.”

She frowned. “And you are aware that the shelter is in London? How do you propose to get there, as you cannot apparate?”

“Well I…”

“And if you think I’m taking you there, you are quite mistaken, young man.”

“Oh no, I would dream of that, Professor,” I replied. “But maybe if we were to connect your fireplace to theirs, or to the one at my house, then I could come and go and you wouldn’t have to worry about it.” That was reasonable, wasn’t it?

“George, that is out of the question, utterly!”

“But what if I got my parents’ permission? Would that be alright?”

She glared at me. “Your mother would NEVER consent to something as reckless as letting a schoolboy walk the streets of London alone! Especially not one such as yourself, I hate to say.”

I knew what she meant, but I didn’t let the sting of her insult deter me from my purpose. “I’m familiar with the neighbourhood, Professor, and I know how to get around London perfectly well! I live there and I know the streets like the back of my hand. I swear, I’ll be careful!”

She sighed. Was that a sign? “And what do you hope to accomplish at the homeless shelter?”

“Access to the Magically Challenged, adults, that is,” I replied. “See, if I’m to do proper research on how they’re being treated by wizard society, then I need to go straight to them.”

“Any why not start with our own students?”

“Oh, I intend to, Professor. But I need all ages. I need those who are the most victimised by wizard law so I…”

Professor McGonagall frowned again. “And what makes you think they are victims?”

“Because the law ties their hands and renders them powerless,” I replied intently.

She sighed again. “Look, I am going to have to talk to Severus, that is, the Headmaster about this, and I am going to have to speak to your parents as well.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Professor. I think it’s going to work out just fine.”


	22. STUPEFY!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _When I was a boy, I read a book about a muggle called Mahatma Gandhi, a man who lived in India and worked for independence from Britain. The fascinating part about his story was that he used only peaceful means, not violence. But he appealed to the people’s sense of justice and personhood, which appealed to me very much. Granted, my own quest was much smaller in scope from Gandhi’s, but to me, it was no less important. The situation was so grim._

Being a Sixth Year was a radical change for all of us. Suddenly, we all had to think about NEWT exams—well, my friends did—and there were so many other expectations as well. One of our major concerns as we selected classes for the year was to consider our future careers once we left Hogwarts. For Theo it was a no-brainer—he still planned to enter the muggle computer trade. Nick and Aidan, too, considered muggle careers.

My situation was different, and not just because of the project I was working on. I really did want to complete my education, even if I ended up with little to show for it by way of exam results. My chosen career didn’t require any NEWTs, so that was one less thing for me to worry about. The one thing I really wanted to concentrate on was my magic skills. I was determined to improve, even if I never would become a Healer. In fact, the more I delved into my study of wizard law and public policy, I thought less and less about the Healing arts, now seeing myself as a sort of political activist or something.

When I was a boy, I read a book about a muggle called Mahatma Gandhi, a man who lived in India and worked for independence from Britain. The fascinating part about his story was that he used only peaceful means, not violence. But he appealed to the people’s sense of justice and personhood, which appealed to me very much. Granted, my own quest was much smaller in scope from Gandhi’s, but to me, it was no less important. The situation was so grim. For example:

_1\. A Squib vote was worth half a wizard’s vote_

_2\. Squibs only got the right to vote in 1973, three years after Lord Voldemort rose to power. The only reason they got the vote was because they caused a riot in Diagon Alley and threatened to take over the offices of the Daily Prophet._

_3\. Once Squibs got the vote, they had to pay a fee of 5 Galleons. No explanation was ever given, and the rule was never rescinded._

_4\. Unescorted Squibs have to enter the Ministry by a different door, allegedly for their own protection. That law is still on the books, though I don’t know if it’s still enforced._

_5\. Only a qualified witch or wizard can help a Squib apply for Social Welfare—a Squib cannot do so alone, again, allegedly for their protection._

_6\. If a Squib applies for a job, he/she must have a recommendation from a witch or wizard, regardless of the job. The witch or wizard must be able to vouch for the Squib’s character and abilities._

_7\. Squibs may live in wizard towns and neighbourhoods, but they must register with the Ministry so that witches and wizards know that the Squib is in their area—Squibs are widely considered to be a liability in any neighbourhood._

_8\. Even after a Squib has registered to move into that neighbourhood, witches and wizards reserve the right to refuse admittance to the Squib—they allegedly have to consider their property value_

_9\. Squibs allegedly can be refused certain types of health care, if a particular procedure is deemed dangerous to them—I’d have to ask Dad about that one_

_10\. There is an office of Squib Management and Regulation, a subdivision of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Can you imagine? Squibs are considered Magical Creatures! That one shot straight through my heart._

In short, Squibs are treated like little children and nasty menaces, as far as the law is concerned. Whether the general public knew the extent of these laws regarding Squibs was another matter, one which I determined to discover. The sooner I started talking to people, the quicker I could figure out a plan of action. But that required access.

The first morning of classes, we were all required to sit at our House tables, a rarity during the year. But it was during that time that our head of House would speak to us about our schedules for the upcoming year. Professor Higgs, as usual, took care of all the other students, before getting to me. I was late to breakfast this morning—my meeting with McGonagall had gone a bit long, and even though she and I had made some decisions about my schedule, the final word had to come from Professor Higgs. He officiously unrolled the parchment and scanned it carefully, clicking his tongue annoyingly as he went.

“So, only three OWLs, then, Chaucer,” he said. “Why’s that, then?”

“I was only allowed three, sir. Surely you remember?”

“Oh yeah yeah yeah. Low magic, right?”

I blushed.

“I see you have quite a demanding schedule planned for yourself, Chaucer,” Higgs droned. 

Mr. Malfoy used to entertain us with jokes about Professor Terence Higgs, who apparently was kicked off the Slytherin Quidditch team as Seeker when Mr. Malfoy bought his way in. It was an uncomfortable thing for me when Higgs became Head of Slytherin House last year, as I had a very hard time getting the comical images of his falling off his broomstick, as lampooned by Mr. Malfoy, out of my head. Ironically, he had taken the place of an aging Madame Hooch as Flying Instructor.

“Surely you’re not planning on taking all of these, are you, Chaucer?”

“Yes, sir, I am, actually,” I replied. “I’ve already settled with Professor McGonagall on…”

“Yes, I know you’re working with her,” he said. “What’s this about Field Work? That is not part of our curriculum.”

“No, sir, it’s a special class…”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “A special class? And does the Headmaster know about this special class, Chaucer?”

“Professor McGonagall is going to speak to him about it today, sir.”

“And you spoke to her before you spoke to me about it?”

“Well she’s my tutor, sir, and…”

But Professor Higgs shook his head. I panicked. “No no no, Mr. Weasley-Chaucer, this will not do. I cannot allow you to take an unapproved course simply because you are a special case. Furthermore, as a relative of the Headmaster, any special favours to you are not good for the welfare of the school, nor is it fair to the other students.”

This was madness! “But sir, you…”

But Higgs raised an impatient hand. “There there, that is enough, Chaucer. Now I will approve you for Philosophy, Maths, History and Literature, and I will also approve you for Muggle Studies, as you requested. The other classes you will spend with Professor McGonagall.”

“But…”

“And now that we’re finished here,” he went on, ignoring me, “you had best be off to class, considering you were late to breakfast this morning. Good day.” And with that, he walked off, leaving me stunned and speechless and alone at the Slytherin table.

We’d just see who got their way.

* * * * *

I went to Philosophy that morning, really enjoyed the class, in spite of the fact that both Ellie and Malachi were in the class. Thankfully, Theo was there, too, and he even saved me a seat when I walked into class five minutes late. This term we would be discussing the philosophical writing of Albus Dumbledore, focusing on a previously little-read work he wrote in the 1930’s. That excited me, especially as both my parents had fond personal memories of Dumbledore when they were both students. Mum was a Fifth Year when he died, and Dad was still a part-timer when it happened.

The death of Albus Dumbledore was not spoken of much in our house. I knew vaguely that Severus had something to do with it, but neither Dad nor Mum wished to speak about it. Once, ages ago, I asked Mr. Malfoy about it—to my shock, he walked straight out of the room, and Dad yelled at me. For as long as I could remember, everyone told me that my father was the greatest wizard since Dumbledore—I thought that by reading Dumbledore’s works, then, it might help me to understand Dad a bit more, on a magical level and not just as my father.

By lunchtime, I was starving and ready for the massive roast beef sandwiches that were being served that day in the Great Hall. They were slathered in mayonnaise, piled high with lettuce and tomatoes and onions—everything I loved. I wasn’t going to be seeing much of Paige that day, so I took extra onions.

As I was finishing up my fourth glass of pumpkin juice, I spotted little Vernon Dursley approaching me very tentatively, a small scroll of parchment in his chubby hands.

“Hey there, Dursley,” Nick said cheerfully.

“Hi,” Vernon replied.

“How are lessons so far?” Theo asked.

Dursley turned pale. “Uh, they’re alright. Weird.”

We all grinned. It must have been hard for the poor kid, growing up in a family like that, where his own grandparents and possibly his parents were hostile to magic. It was a true wonder that they allowed the boy to attend Hogwarts at all.

“So what’s that parchment, Dursley?” I asked.

“Oh! It’s for you, actually,” he replied. “The…Headmaster said I should give it to you.”

“Well thank you very much,” I said.

Dursley eyed me carefully. “Is it true,” he began in a near whisper, “that your father is Nigel Chaucer?”

“Yeah, it’s true,” I said.

“Grandpapa says he’s barkers, but Daddy disagrees,” Dursley said matter-of-factly. “Daddy says that your father and my cousin Harry saved the world!”

I laughed. “I’ve heard that, too, Dursley.” I unrolled the parchment to read the message, which turned out to be quite urgent.

_Mr. Wealsey-Chaucer,  
You are to report to my office no later than one o’clock._

_Headmaster Severus Snape_

So bloody formal.

At 12:56, I made my way past the stone gargoyles, and up the stairs to my cousin’s offices, eager to know what he wanted and why it was so urgent. The office looked the same as ever—dark, rather morose. The portraits of Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall were the two bright lights of the entire office. Anyway…

“Sit down, George,” he said stiffly.

I sat. I waited.

Severus looked about the same as always, though today, he gripped a cane. That seemed odd to me—he was only sixty years old, too young to be on a cane. Perhaps he injured himself.

“My condition is none of your business, George!” he snapped. Damn. I keep forgetting he’s a Legilimens.

“I received your message, sir,” I said formally.

Severus sat with a grunt, not behind the desk but in a chair next to me.

“Obviously,” he replied tartly. “I have spoken to that twit, Higgs, and have made it very clear that you are to be permitted to take your Field Work class.”

I stifled a snigger. “Thank you, Headmaster.”

“Severus,” he replied.

“Sir?”

He rolled his eyes impatiently. “Things have changed, George. I have spoken to your father, to Mr. Malfoy and to Professor McGonagall. Clearly we are to give you a bit of latitude with regards to your schedule.”

I sighed with relief. “Thank you…Severus.”

He stood up. “It has become clear to me that your purpose here is unique, though not in the same way as your father. You have similar traits but your gifts are radically different. He lacks your…consideration. Anyway, what Professor Higgs does not comprehend is that you are on a different path from the other students here, as you will likely not be taking many NEWTs.”

“Is there any possibility…”

“No. What is possible is that you will take on a most extraordinary path of study, unavailable to any student in the history of this school.”

That sounded a bit much. “Surely people have studied law.”

“After Hogwarts, yes. But there are few wizard attorneys. Our legal system is deplorably old-fashioned. The Thomas McDowells of the world are rare entities. But what I see you doing is far greater than a mere study of law. I see you spearheading an entire movement, and that is an extraordinary thing. We don’t see many movements in our world. You need a strategy.”

“I’m aware of that, Severus,” I said, feeling a bit bold. “That’s why I need to go to London.”

“But you need to take something to London, George. You can’t just show up at that shelter and start asking questions.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too random, too…undisciplined.”

“What do you think I should do?”

“That is for you to decide. Before you run out there to London, you need to prepare something concrete, perhaps a list of questions or concerns that you can bring to the people.”

Actually, that was a great idea. But what to ask?

That evening after dinner, I sat in the Great Hall with Theo and Paige, racking my brains for ideas.

“One thing I know is that when muggles want to get information out of people,” Paige started, “they send out a poll.”

“A poll?” I asked. “What’s that?”

“It’s a series of questions,” she said. “You give them choices for the answers—agree, somewhat agree, somewhat disagree, disagree.”

I crinkled my brow. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Take down the statistics,” she said. “That way you get an objective idea about how people respond to specific questions you ask.”

That was a good idea, actually. “So if I create this poll, then I hand it out at the shelter?”

“I’m sure Abraxas would help you on that,” Paige said. “Daddy will see to it.”

* * * * *

It took me a month to get the poll questions together, but by the time I was done, I was really happy with the results. Mostly I wanted to know about Squibs’ awareness of the laws against them, and whether they felt like they were fairly treated by society in general, or if they felt as if they were treated like children.

Paige duplicated it for me with one flick of her wand. Then we snogged in the Silver Room for three hours.

That Saturday was a Hogsmeade weekend, a day when I should have gone to town with Paige and had a romantic date with her at Madame Puddifoot’s. But then she insisted that I take the time to go to London to see Abraxas and deliver the completed polls.

“You want to go with me?” I asked.

“Your cousin would have a shit-fit if I went,” she replied. She gave me a kiss on the lips and joined her girlfriends for a day of boy-free fun.

Severus had given me permission to take the Floo Network from his fireplace to my house—what he had never told me before was that the two fireplaces had been connected for years though I don’t recall anyone in my family ever using it. They didn’t need to. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that I was going to London to deliver the polls to Abraxas. I also gave some to Dad, to Mum, my uncles and the proprietor of Flourish and Blott’s. Abraxas told me to give him a couple of weeks before I got back to him with some results.

Two weeks later, I returned, ready to hear anything Abraxas had to tell me. When I first walked into the grubby office inside the shelter, he was under a mound of parchments, order forms, requisitions, all sorts of paperwork. He barely took notice of me when I walked in eager with excitement.

“Hey, Abraxas,” I said, knocking lightly on the doorframe.

Abraxas grinned. “You are a welcome sight, George, believe me.” He stood up and gave me a quick embrace.

“How’s business around here?” I asked, sitting on creaky chair in the corner. The office smelled like cigarette smoke.

“Insane, as usual. You? How’s the magic coming along?”

“I can do the Reparo spell like a pro now. And I’ve almost got Diffindo down pat, though I find that just smashing the thing on the ground works a lot better.” We laughed.

“How about vanishing spells? Started those yet?”

“What do you think I am,” I retorted, “a wizard? Professor McGonagall doesn’t even dare let me try switching spells yet!”

“I suppose she’s afraid you’ll switch the faces of the clock and the cat and not be able to put it right,” Abraxas replied, laughing.

I rolled my eyes and chuckled. He was right, actually. Sad but true.

Anyway, Abraxas handed me a nice stack of responses, ready for me to decipher and figure out how to use. I stuck around for a while to give him some help. Today he was stacking tins of tunafish, peaches and corn in the food bank—actually, the food bank looked a lot better since Abraxas took charge of it. He had really changed the place, made it much more organised and workable since he started there.

Finally, the hour grew a bit late, and I had to be getting home so I started to say my goodbyes to the staff and to Abraxas. I took note of a strange-looking man sitting in a dark corner of the shelter’s dining room, sipping a cup of tea and staring at me very keenly. His face was grizzled and drawn and mean-looking. I got a bad feeling about him. I suddenly felt very self-conscious, especially as his icy stare bored into me. I leaned over to Abraxas.

“Who is that?” I asked him in a low whisper. “In the corner?”

Abraxas looked. “Trouble. Ignore him.”

I did what Abraxas told me. I ignored him. I said goodbye to Abraxas one more time and made my way out the door. The poll results were stuffed safely in my schoolbag, which I had slung over my shoulder. But…

“Hey!” a voice shouted behind me.

I ignored it. I had a bad feeling once again.

“Hey! Kid!” the voice shouted again.

I stopped. I shouldn’t have stopped. But I stopped and turned around. That man I’d spotted in the dark corner was fast approaching me, wand out. I panicked.

“Hey!” he shouted. “Give me money! You got money!”

“Sorry, sir, I don’t have any money!” I didn’t. I’d left my moneybag at school.

“Bullshit! I know who you are!” he snarled. “Your father’s rich!”

“Sir, I don’t have any money!” I replied. And then I turned my back on him. That was stupid.

The man rushed at me, his face now contorted with anger. He reached out and grabbed my bag, trying to rip it off me.

“What’s in that bag?” he demanded.

“Nothing!” I replied, now pretty bloody terrified. “Just some papers, that’s all!”

“Give me that bag!” he shouted.

“It’s just some papers! I told you I don’t have any money!” I tried to jerk away from him, desperate to get safely away. Where was Abraxas? Where was everybody? My heart pounded in my chest.

But he just got angrier, and when I yanked the strap of my bag out of his hand and turned to run, it happened. I never saw it coming. “STUPEFY!” he shouted. Before I knew what had hit me, I felt something like a boulder slam against my back, throwing me to the pavement, face-down. The pain of the spell was hard and sharp against my spine, as if I had been kicked in the back.

The shock of the stunning spell knocked the wind out of me, and I coughed and gasped for breath. My nose bled profusely and I was pretty sure I had cracked a tooth when I landed on my face. And then I was hit again with another stunning spell, this time in the head. That’s all I remember. There was this vague, fuzzy memory of someone screaming and a male voice calling my name…was it Abraxas? Was it my father? I don’t know. All I know is that the power of the spell rendered me completely unconscious, totally helpless against whatever this man wanted to do to me…


	23. Father and Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Ten awful days passed. Ten miserable, sullen days. I didn’t touch the contents of my schoolbag. I didn’t want to think about the poll results that awaited my perusal. I went to class, but couldn’t pay attention. Even as I worked with Professor McGonagall, I was worse than ever. I thought she would lecture me on my lack of focus, but she didn’t. She left me alone, for the most part. I suppose she thought I was traumatised by the attack, but that wasn’t it. After all, when you have an older brother like Freddy, you get used to getting roughed up a bit._
> 
> _But I yelled at Dad. He said terrible, horrible things to me. My head ached and I couldn’t sleep and all I wanted was to see him again, despite my anger. I wanted to yell and scream at him and I wanted to kneel at his feet and beg him forgiveness._
> 
> _And then…_

I was sure that every bone in my body was broken. I know, that’s a total exaggeration, because in reality, nothing was broken at all—I didn’t even break my nose or a tooth in the fall. On the other hand, when you get hit by a Stunning Spell at close range, anyone’s bound to feel like they’ve been run over by a herd of buffalo. Growing up thinking I was Magically Challenged, I never experienced an attack like that—I had always been protected by my family, my school and my friends.

My whole body was throbbing and aching horribly as I regained consciousness. A very blurry, nearly hysterical Abraxas Malfoy leaned over me, desperate to revive me.

“George!” he shouted.

I groaned. My mouth ran dry.

Soon, three other people leaned over me, looking for signs of life. Abraxas laid a hand on my forehead for some reason.

“George?” he said softly.

“Yeah,” I whispered. I struggled to sit up, but Abraxas and the others stopped me.

“Not yet,” one of the witches said. “We’ve got a Healer on the way to look at you.”

No! That would mean…

“It’s not my Dad, is it?” I asked, suddenly terrified.

They all shrugged.

Luckily, the young Healer that showed up was someone I never met before, an Elutherius Doge, who looked barely older than me. He had bright red hair and a bright red nose, glittering blue eyes and a serious, intellectual expression on his thin lips.

“Stunning Spell, eh?” he said. His voice was surprisingly deep. He ran his wand over my body, sending out a incredibly soothing wave of warmth. The pain lessened after that, and I was able to sit up.

Abraxas had rescued my bag and had stuffed the parchments back inside—I had no idea how everything had gotten strewn about. Everyone helped me to my feet and got me inside.

“My parents don’t have to know about this, do they?” I asked with dread.

“You got mugged,” Abraxas said. “Gwen already called Law Enforcement.”

I groaned again.

Things only got worse when my uncle Ron arrived, accompanied by my frantic and furious parents. This was going to get ugly. Right on cue, Mum threw her arms around me and showered me with little kisses.

“Oh my poor baby!” she exclaimed. “What happened to you?”

Dad said nothing. It was weird. He just stood there, fuming. My insides melted.

Abraxas explained to Uncle Ron what happened, or at least what he saw. The man had hit me with two Stunning Spells and then, when I was face down and unconscious on the pavement, he ripped the bag off my body and started rifling through it, looking for money—but like I said, I had none. Then Abraxas came running towards us and the man disapparated, leaving my bag and my things strewn all over the place.

I gave a statement to Uncle Ron—I couldn’t stop shaking, though it wasn’t so much because I’d just been mugged. I couldn’t keep my eyes off my father. All I could do was try to discern his thoughts, anticipate his inevitable tirade. I didn’t know who he would yell at first—Abraxas, Severus, me. It was hard to tell. No one in the family had ever been attacked like that before. Well, Dad was attacked once, but he wasn’t mugged. I cringed to think what he would say.

They made sure I was alright, thanked Abraxas and the shelter’s staff, and took me home. Mum made me a cup of tea as I sat on the sofa. Dad still didn’t say a word. I trembled on the inside. All he did was pace and think and fret.

I decided to break the very uncomfortable silence. It was a terrible idea.

“Dad,” I began.

“Don’t talk to me right now,” he fumed. “I’m too bloody angry right now.” He continued to pace. The lights flickered.

“Dad…”

“George!” he roared. “I am no mood for ANY explanations!”

“But Dad…”

“I can’t even find words to express my…”

“Dad!” He had to hear me out. It wasn’t fair that he was being this way! Why was he taking this out on me?

“You will not step one TOE outside Hogwarts for the rest of the year, except for the Christmas holiday, and that is FINAL!”

I felt as if he had just slapped me. All I could do was sit there, too stunned to speak. He couldn’t be serious. Surely he was overreacting to a genuine scare. He’d calm down, see reason, lift this sentence.

“You can’t do that!” I blurted out.

But he rounded on me, still furious. “You’re damn right I can, George! What the hell were you doing there?”

“I was retrieving the poll results from Abraxas.”

“So you go down there to that awful area, completely unescorted? That was reckless, George! You had no business doing that!”

“Dad, I…”

“Why didn’t you let him take your bag?” he demanded.

“I didn’t have any money!” I shot back. Now I was getting angry. “I kept telling him that!”

“George, do you have any idea how many people get killed over nothing? They fight the mugger and then they wind up dead! How can you not know that?” His temper was rising sharply.

“But he didn’t kill me, Dad! He only stunned me!”

“You were lucky! You had no way of knowing what he would do!”

“That’s why I was walking away from him!” Now I was shouting. I’d never shouted at my own father before. It was horrifying.

“Well I’ll tell you one thing, George,” he said. “This will never happen again.”

“But it’s not fair!” I protested. “You got into a lot of scrapes when you were my age! You got stunned! You were shot! Why is there one set of rules for you and one for me?”

“That was a different situation,” he replied harshly. “I was battling some very dark wizards! You’re just…”

“Just what?” I sneered, taken aback. “Just working with SQUIBS?” This argument was getting way out of control.

“For the last time, George, do NOT use that ugly word!” Dad bellowed.

“Why not?” I shot back. “It’s an ugly word and it’s an ugly thing!”

“Being Magically Challenged is not an ugly thing!”

“How would you know?” I retorted. Gods, I was such a brat!

His face fell. “This conversation is over,” he said.

I glared at him mutinously. “Fine,” I replied. 

I turned on my heel and headed to the fireplace, where I grabbed a fistful of Floo Powder. Stepping inside the fireplace, I threw down the Floo Powder and with an angry whoosh! I made my way back to Hogwarts. The force of my anger propelled me faster than usual, and I shot out of Severus’ fireplace, crashing into a pile of spellbooks. I landed in a heap, covered in soot and parchments. Severus stood over me, glaring down at me. He did not help me to my feet.

I stood up and straightened my sweater, which had twisted to one side as I traveled through the Floo Network.

I didn’t know what to say to him. I was still fuming and hurt and confused by the terrible fight with Dad, and in truth, I just wanted to go to bed for the next seven years. Without a word, I picked up my bag from the mess I left on the floor and headed to the door.

“And where do you think you are going, Mr. Weasley-Chaucer?” Severus’ icy voice stopped me in my tracks. I shuddered.

I turned and looked guiltily at the pile of books on the floor, but before I could move to put them right, he spoke again.

“There is no need for that,” he said. With a casual flick of his wand, he set the books aright. Severus eyed me carefully—too carefully. “Sit.” 

He pointed a long, bony finger at the chair…behind his desk. At that point, I knew better than to defy him.

“I heard about what happened to you today,” he said, sounding almost concerned. Almost.

“How…”

“Your father sent me a Howler, in fact.”

I groaned in exasperation. “A Howler?” Unbelievable.

Severus scowled. “Needless to say, I responded in kind.”

That made me feel worse. I wondered how many other people were sent Howlers by my father today.

“Look, sir, I…”

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, I mean, yeah. It was just a couple of Stunning Spells.”

He raised his eyebrows in alarm. “A couple of Stunning Spells? A single Stunning Spell has felled bigger wizards than you, boy.”

“I’m fine, really. The Healer fixed me up and I barely feel any pain now. Honestly, sir, I’m okay.”

“I want you to take a potion to help you sleep tonight.”

“I don’t need…”

“You will take a potion to sleep tonight, and that is final. And we will talk more tomorrow.”

I was sick of people telling me what to do. Take this, do that, mind yourself, stay put. When was going to be able to make my own choices and learn from my own mistakes? Angry thoughts rampaged through my mind as I trudged through the corridors, heading back to Slytherin House.

“Hey!”

I turned to see a very irritated and concerned Paige waving me down.

“George!” she called out. She looked worried. Paige threw her arms around my neck and kissed my lips. It actually hurt a little when she pulled me close—I guess I wasn’t so fine after all. “Are you alright? I heard you got attacked! Abraxas is really upset!”

Together, arm in arm, we walked down to the Great Hall, where we were joined by an equally alarmed Nick, Aidan and Theo. Then Althea ran over, as did June and even little Vernon Dursley. I suddenly felt really uncomfortable, sitting there with all those curious eyes boring through me.

They peppered me with questions: what happened, who was the guy, were you scared, blah blah blah. But I was still upset after my fight with Dad, and the last thing I wanted was to answer a bunch of questions, even from my closest friends. I wanted them all to go away—I couldn’t get Dad’s furious face out of my mind, and my heart ached horribly as I remembered his words. How could he say such a thing to me? How could he judge me like that? I wanted to cry.

My answers to my friends were short, dull, to the point. I rubbed my forehead.

“Look guys, I think I need to get a little rest,” I confessed.

Paige caressed my arm and kissed my cheek. “Let’s go outside, get some air,” she whispered.

I sighed heavily, but I didn’t fight her. I was done fighting anyone that day. Together, Paige and I wandered to some remote part of the grounds—the sun was just setting, casting a glorious light over the sparkling lake. We sat under a tree, not far from the Forbidden Forest, resting our heads together. It was dark and cool there, which I needed.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“Just tired.”

“And?”

“And?”

“You’ve looked like you’re on the verge of tears for the last hour,” Paige said, running her slender fingers through my hair. “You want to talk about it?”

I did, but I was afraid. I have issues with crying in front of girls, even in front of Paige. It’s one thing to lose it in front of Theo or Freddy—but that wasn’t exactly the image I wanted to project for the girl I loved. It took me a while to summon the courage to speak.

“Dad’s gated me,” I said glumly. “No more London, no more anywhere.”

“What?” she exclaimed. “Not even Hogsmeade? Not even St. Luke?”

“Nowhere but home for the holidays.” I couldn’t bring myself to tell the worst part. It hurt too much. All I could do was sigh pitifully and rub my eyes.

“I guess your Dad was pretty upset.”

“He sent a Howler to the Headmaster!”

“Oh my goodness,” she groaned. “George, you know, I think you just have to be patient with him.”

“Patient? I was the victim and he’s treating me like the criminal!”

She pressed my arm tenderly. “You have to give him this, George.”

“Why? He thinks I’m a bloody child, that I’m just playing games or something!”

“He’s just scared, George.”

But I wouldn’t be disabused of my outrage. “That is no reason to cut me off like a criminal!”

“But George! When I was kidnapped this summer, after I came back, Father was completely mental. Totally out of his mind! He kept me under lock and key the rest of summer, remember? But George, he was scared! He was so worried that something awful had happened, and all he wanted was for me to be safe!”

“That was different, Paige! No one knew where were you were, for days and days!”

“And you got knocked off your feet!” Paige shot back. “You got attacked and knocked out! Abraxas said he had to call a Healer to revive you! Can you imagine what your parents went through, hearing that their son had been mugged and injured?”

I knew she had a point. Dad’s face haunted me even more just then. I had never had an argument like that with him before, and in truth, it scared me. We had always been so close—our relationship was special, unique, intensely close. I didn’t understand it. I didn’t understand how I was the bad guy just because Dad got freaked out.

“So punish the bastard who attacked me! But I don’t deserve to be penned up like…” I broke off. It was useless arguing. I felt so much pain in my heart and mind, and now I questioned whether Paige could really understand that.

* * * * *

Ten awful days passed. Ten miserable, sullen days. I didn’t touch the contents of my schoolbag. I didn’t want to think about the poll results that awaited my perusal. I went to class, but couldn’t pay attention. Even as I worked with Professor McGonagall, I was worse than ever. I thought she would lecture me on my lack of focus, but she didn’t. She left me alone, for the most part. I suppose she thought I was traumatised by the attack, but that wasn’t it. After all, when you have an older brother like Freddy, you get used to getting roughed up a bit.

But I yelled at Dad. He said terrible, horrible things to me. My head ached and I couldn’t sleep and all I wanted was to see him again, despite my anger. I wanted to yell and scream at him and I wanted to kneel at his feet and beg him forgiveness.

And then…

One blank, hideous morning, I sat glumly at the Hufflepuff table, picking at my breakfast, but not eating. In truth, I hadn’t eaten much in the last few days. Paige worried. So did Theo. They knew what an emotional basket case I could become, and after such a terrible event as being mugged, they were more than concerned. Paige was extremely attentive to me, and Theo constantly wanted me to tell him what I was feeling or thinking, as if I was in danger of falling apart. But I couldn’t tell them the truth—it hurt too much.

“Mr. Weasley-Chaucer,” came Severus’ icy voice. His long, taloned fingers clamped down on my shoulder.

“Sir?”

“My office. Now.”

Now what? Another interrogation? A visit to the Hospital Wing? Why wouldn’t they just leave me alone to wallow in self pity?


	24. The Activist Posse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _One day, I was sitting in Maths class twirling my pencil and not paying attention to the complex calculus equations on the board. I looked over at Nick, who sat in his desk taking copious notes, working so hard to perfect his mathematical abilities. I admired him deeply in that moment—he was no faceless statistic, no simpleminded, helpless fool. Nick was intelligent, caring, funny, an amazing friend._
> 
> _People needed to see him, for real._

No One Special

Chapter 24—The Activist Posse

 

As I made my usual trek to Severus’ office, I had no idea what he wanted this time. OK, so I was sinking lower than usual in my lessons with McGonagall, and I had been chucked out of Literature for daydreaming the other day, and then I got a detention for sassing my Maths professor. But my grades weren’t too bad. About the same as always.

In the midst of new worries, the last person I expected to see in Severus’ office was my father, and yet, there he was, waiting and wringing his hands and looking almost as distressed as I was. I was overwhelmed with fear and dread and…guilt. Dad jumped to his feet the moment I entered the office, his features strained and tired. Severus didn’t stay, which surprised me. It was just me and Dad, facing each other for the first time since our fight. I decided to let him speak first.

“Hi,” he said. In truth, Dad looked just about as bad as I did.

“Hi.” I remained standing. So did he. “What are you doing here?”

Dad didn’t answer right away. He paced a little, looking increasingly uncomfortable and anxious.

“Mum yelled at you, didn’t she?” I said.

Dad chuckled. “A lot of people yelled at me. Your Mum, Severus, Draco, even Freddy yelled at me.”

I looked down, studying the new scuff mark on my right shoe. It was easier than talking in that moment—I was on the verge of tears just then, looking at Dad in his distress, but I held my ground and maintained my stoic silence.

Dad went on. “I haven’t slept much these days,” he confessed.

“Me neither.”

He looked away for a moment and sighed heavily. “You scared me, George.”

“I know, Dad.”

“If anything ever happened…” He sighed again. “I’d go out of my mind,” he said. “You and I have such a special bond…you mean the world to me, George. You’re kind and generous and passionate…and strong. Baby, I…George, that is. This is really hard for me. You’re growing up and entering the world and it scares the hell out of me.” He put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my burning eyes.

It was so hard to maintain my indignation—I could feel myself caving in. Dad always has that effect on me. What I didn’t know was the effect I had on him. And when I saw him so close to tears, I could barely hold myself together.

“Dad,” I said, “you don’t have to explain…”

“Perhaps not, but I want to apologise to you.”

“Why? For what?”

“Not for gating you. I had every right to do that, as your father. But I had no right to trivialise something that obviously means so much to you. That was very wrong of me, and I’m so sorry for that.”

He was so sincere, and it was that which broke me down at last. I dissolved into bitter tears—Dad gathered me into his arms as if I were six years old again. That felt good, if only for that moment. Finally, after we had both calmed down, we sat down by the window of the massive office. Dad dried his face with his sleeve and took a parchment out of his pocket.

“George, I have given a lot of thought to what you’re pursuing, and in a lot of ways, it’s just as important as any other issue we face in our world. Perhaps it’s one of the most important issues that we face.”

“You think so?” I asked. What was he up to now?

“This whole thing started when Draco gave you that money. I don’t think he had any idea which direction you’d take with it.”

I chuckled at that. “True,” I replied. “Then again, neither did I.”

Dad looked me in the eye. “Are you fully committed to this cause? Are you intent on changing public policy?”

“Yeah. That’s what all the research was about. That’s why I was at the shelter.”

He nodded. “George, I want to offer you an opportunity,” Dad said. He unrolled the parchment and read it over. “You’re familiar with the International Confederation of Wizards, are you not?”

I shrugged. “Of course. Yeah.”

“There’s a summit meeting on July 1, in Los Angeles. You want to learn to surf?”

I laughed. “What?” I didn’t get it. OK, I had a feeling, but what Dad said to me next really shocked me.

“The Supreme Mugwump calls the summit every three years, bringing witches and wizards from around the world together for six days of meetings, forums, all sorts of crap. The issues are pretty general in scope, affecting international relations, social issues, stuff like that.”

“And you’re going this year?” It sounded pretty boring, actually.

“Well, I had a word with Chad—he’s the current Mugwump for this term. Anyway, I spoke to him about your study, and he was very interested in what you have to say.”

“Why? I mean, I’ve barely started!”

“You’ve hit on a neglected issue, George,” Dad pointed out. “And as long as we have prejudice and intolerance in our society, then we can never have true peace.”

“And I’m supposed to tell them that?” I was being thick on purpose. To be frank, he was scaring the hell out of me. Speaking to an international audience? Was he mad?

“I don’t know what you’re going to tell them,” Dad admitted. “But I think that you can make a tremendous contribution to the global conversation on diversity and civil rights.”

How could I respond to that? Dad was making me look like some sort of political activist! I was just a student, no one special or out of the ordinary.

“Look, Dad, I don’t know about this, I mean, I know this is a great opportunity, but I’m not ready for that. I have no idea what I would say.”

Dad sat back and folded his arms. “Well, the summit isn’t for several months. You have plenty of time. I will offer you whatever resources and time you need to get ready for this. You won’t be alone.”

Before I knew it, I found myself giving him a reluctant “yes.”

Yes? What was I getting into? How did this go from a simple poll to an international issue? At dinner that night with Theo and Paige, I told them the whole story.

“I think it’s great!” Paige exclaimed.

“That is really cool, George,” Theo echoed. “And you get to go to California!”

“Yeah, but I have to talk in front of some huge crowd!” I protested.

“You’ll be fine!” Theo said. “You’ll blow them away!”

Paige crinkled her nose. “Is the Supreme Mugwump’s name really Chad?”

So much for getting sympathy from my friends.

* * * * *

This had to be more than just a study if I was going to talk about discrimination to the International Confederation of Wizards. It had to be a movement, something already in place. I didn’t want to just recite wizard law to these people. I wanted to show them that things were in motion and that somehow, awareness of discrimination was being raised in our British community.

Of course, that was pure fantasy. The ugly fact was that no awareness was raised at all. In fact, most witches and wizards couldn’t have cared less about what the Magically Challenged had to endure on a daily basis. I had to make them care.

One day, perhaps a couple of weeks later, I was sitting in Maths class twirling my pencil and not paying attention to the complex calculus equations on the board. I looked over at Nick, who sat in his desk taking copious notes, working so hard to perfect his mathematical abilities. I admired him deeply in that moment—he was no faceless statistic, no simpleminded, helpless fool. Nick was intelligent, caring, funny, an amazing friend.

People needed to see him, for real.

I remember watching a muggle television programme, and there was this advert for a charity that helped starving kids in Africa. What struck me was the intense eyes of the kids featured in the advert. They were real people, with hopes and dreams and likes and dislikes, just like anyone else. I got an idea.

I sent an owl to Mum, begging me to come home for a few hours so I could talk to her, face to face. What I had to say couldn’t be expressed on parchment. Thankfully, she consented, and so, once again, I found myself catapulting through the Floo Network, landing with a thump in our own hearth. Mum was waiting for me with hot cocoa and a plate of fresh brownies—naturally, Grandma Weasley baked them, not Mum.

“You look thin,” she said, making sure I had at least four brownies. They tasted really good.

“I’ve had a busy couple of weeks.” That was sort of a lie and sort of not.

“Your Dad told me he made up with you,” she said, suppressing a smirk.

“He told me you took his head off,” I replied.

She laughed. “We haven’t had a fight like that in a long time.” She rolled her eyes. “He was like a madman, yelling at everyone, casting blame everywhere he looked. It was good that you were back at school, believe me.”

“I guess he told you about the summit?”

“He’s very excited about it.” She patted my hand and frowned. “What?”

“Do you think _The Portal_ would be interested in printing an advert that sort of talks about the Magically Challenged?” I asked.

“I’d have to ask my editor,” she replied. “What did you have in mind?”

As I explained it to her, my mother’s smile widened. She reached forward and kissed me on the forehead.

“It sounds brilliant, honey,” she said glowingly.

* * * * *

It was brilliant. I borrowed a wizard camera from Mr. Creevey, an old friend of Mum’s, and set up a sort of photo shoot with some of my friends. The pictures were simple—just photos of Nick, Aidan, June and Theo, some separately, some together, just smiling casually. But it would be the captions under the pictures that would make all the difference. For days, a group of us discussed, argued, and ultimately decided on what we all thought would be the most effective way of putting out the message to the general population.

For example, I got a picture of Aidan looking particularly hunky, and then, under his picture, I put the caption: _“Want to marry me? It’ll cost you—can you afford the 200 Galleon penalty fee to marry a Squib?”_

Then I had June and Theo in another picture, looking as normal and wholesome as possible. The caption under their picture read, _“What do we have in common with Hippogryffs and Unicorns? We’re monitored by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.”_

The caption I used for Nick’s picture read, _“Want me for Minister for Magic? Too bad—I’m a Squib.”_

My favourite one had a picture of Theo, dressed in casual robes, sitting in the Library. The caption read, _“Second-Class Citizen.”_

“So what do we do with them?” June asked, looking over the final products—I had just gotten them back from the printmaker by owl post. They looked amazing. The pictures were black and white and the captions were a scarlet red—the printmaker charmed them to change color every twenty seconds. Really impactful.

“Daddy will let you put them up around the school,” Althea said.

“Are you sure about that?” I asked, doubting her certainty. I knew she had Severus wrapped around her pinky finger, but I also knew that even he had his limits. He generally disapproved of public displays.

“You just leave him to me,” she said.

“But shouldn’t they be in Diagon Alley?” Theo asked. “It can’t be just students who see these posters.”

“They should go everywhere,” I replied. “Here, Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade…”

“ _The Daily Prophet_ ,” Paige added. “And your Mum’s magazine, and _Quidditch World Weekly_ , and _Witch Weekly_ , too. Wherever witches and wizards go, that’s where those posters belong.”

“You need to be interviewed, too, George,” Althea pointed out.

“By whom?” Aidan asked.

“By his mummy,” Malachi sneered as he walked past us, heading for the Ravenclaw table, hand in hand with a smirking Ellie.

I wanted to ignore him and keep talking. No, that’s a lie. I wanted to punch him in the mouth, but I refrained.

“Can we help you, Malachi?” I asked, standing up to face him.

He shrugged diffidently, like the prat he is. “No. I was just trying to help with whatever ridiculous enterprise you’re into these days.”

Nick and Theo jumped up and advanced furiously.

“Why don’t you piss off, Zabini?” Theo growled.

“Nice language, Scrimgeour,” Malachi retorted. “For a Squib you’ve got a dirty mouth!”

With blinding rage, Nick—that’s right, our peace-loving Nick Jessup—drew back his arm, aiming to give Malachi a heck of a punch! It was unbelievable! But he was stopped by Ellie’s horrified scream.

“Nick!” June shouted.

“Don’t!” Paige demanded.

Nick froze, now rethinking his outrage. He stepped back and smirked. “He’s not worth it,” he said with disgust.

Before any teachers could show up to get us all in trouble, Malachi and Ellie took off, striding resolutely out of the Great Hall.

“You should have hit him,” Althea said.

Everyone laughed, but Nick was still pretty shaken up.

But that scene of near violence stayed with me throughout the rest of the week—I couldn’t get Nick’s angry face or Malachi’s vile sneer out of my mind. Where had that come from? Why such contentiousness all of a sudden? 

Friday night, I stayed late in the Library, doing more research on wizarding history. I knew all about discrimination in our world—that was nothing new. Goblins, House Elves, muggle-borns, all objects of bigotry and hatred. Back when Mum and Dad were at school, they had to deal with Lord Voldemort, who hated everyone who wasn’t pureblooded. There had been the Goblin rebellions decades ago, and even Aunt Hermione tried to get equal rights for House Elves. No such luck. Apparently the Elves didn’t want freedom.

I stood up, stretched my arms and legs and back, and put my books on the “To Be Shelved” cart at the end of the bookcase, then slung my schoolbag over my shoulder and made my way towards the exit. I didn’t expect to see Ellie for some reason, though I know that’s silly. I mean, why shouldn’t she be in the Library if she wants to be? After what had happened between Nick and Malachi earlier in the week, I barely wanted to look at Ellie, for a lot of complicated and stupid reasons.

And then she caught my eye. My insides froze.

“Hey,” I found myself saying, in spite of myself.

Ellie nodded in acknowledgement.

“Working late?” I asked. I know, I was totally pathetic.

“Apparently,” she said waspishly. She shoved a book into her bag and made her way out the door, leaving me behind.

I made after her, suddenly wanting to ask her a question that had been dogging me for months.

“Ellie,” I called, “can I talk to you for a second?”

She stopped and turned around in an annoyingly huffy way. She tapped her foot impatiently as I searched for the right words.

“Yes?” she asked.

“It’s just…I wanted…”

“What, George? If you’re asking me to make up with you…”

Yeah right! She wished. “No! I wouldn’t want that, I mean, I’m doing just great.”

She rolled her eyes and scowled. I didn’t care if I had just sounded rude just then, and instead, pressed on, feeling bold.

“It was just that I wanted to know why…” I paused, letting a trio of Gryffindor Third Years pass by. “…Why you suddenly turned on me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied coldly. “When did I ever turn on you?”

“Oh please! I mean, we were doing fine for a while, don’t you remember? Remember last Christmas, out in my back garden? Remember that?”

“What’s your point, George?”

“What happened? How did it all sort of bust up so suddenly?”

Ellie frowned. “You know what, George? I don’t have time for this. I have a date.” And without a single word more, she stormed off, leaving me with even more questions than before.

I wasn’t going to let her get away with that, so I pursued her, flagging her down at the end of the corridor.

“What do you want, George?” she snapped. “Can’t you get it in your head that I don’t want you any more?”

“I don’t want you either!” I shot back. “But I think I deserve an explanation!”

“You were the one who walked away from me, if you recall, George!”

“You were turning into someone I didn’t know any more!”

She laughed derisively. “Oh wait, so I say that I took up with you because of your father and suddenly I’m some sort of awful cow! Is that what you think?”

“Well that’s hardly a reason for taking up with someone, especially when you clearly have issues with Squibs!”

Ellie’s expression hardened. “I don’t use that word,” she said icily.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “You don’t need to.”

“Son of a bitch,” she spat. And with that, she walked away.

I sighed, now regretting ever talking to her at all. Why didn’t I just pass her by at the Library? I’m a fool, that’s why.

To be honest, I don’t know why I confronted her like that. It was probably a bad idea to spring such all that on her so suddenly. Then again, it was a fair question. But it saddened me, too. As happy as I was with Paige, and as great as we are together, I used to feel the same way about Ellie. She had been my perfect fit, my dream girl, the one person who made me incredibly happy. Was I just fickle? Would some other girl come after Paige, and if so, would I feel the same way about her as I do about Paige? As I did about Ellie?

New worries bubbled up in my mind and heart. That night, I took an extra dose of the Lethargis potion, but I still couldn’t sleep. I didn’t know who to be hate more—Ellie or Malachi…or myself.


	25. Two Bench-Clearing Brawls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Word spread pretty fast about what I had done, and before I knew it, loads of people came up to me to congratulate me on a job well done._
> 
> _“He’s just a Second Year,” I said._
> 
> _“A big, nasty Second Year,” a friend from Gryffindor said. “Word is that he, Avery and Dolohov are up to something, sort of in memory of their ancestors._
> 
> _“You mean baby Death Eaters?” June asked, a little nervous._
> 
> _“Daddy knows about it,” Althea said. “He’s taking steps to be sure they don’t get too far with that.”_
> 
> _“Wasn’t he a Death Eater?” someone asked._
> 
> _We all looked up at a snide Malachi Zabini, holding hands once again with Ellie._

“Hey!”

I looked up, startled by Paige’s voice. “Sorry.”

“If you don’t eat your breakfast, I’m going to,” Theo said, eyeing my untouched bangers and eggs.

“George, you’ve been moping all morning, and it’s getting to be a real bore,” Aidan said.

“I know,” I replied. “Sorry.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that,” Althea noted.

I didn’t want to say what I wanted to say with Paige at the table. I was dying to talk to Theo about my fight with Ellie, and the presence of Paige made things terribly uncomfortable.

“I heard you ran into Ellie last night,” Theo said. “By the Library, right?”

I winced. So much for discretion.

“Yeah, I saw her.”

“What happened?” Paige asked, with more than a hint of irritation in her voice. I thought of her scary father.

“Did you talk to her or just throw a hex at the bitch?” Althea asked bitterly.

Reluctantly, I confessed our conversation to my group of friends, relating every horrible detail to them. Paige looked at Althea, giving her a very dodgy look. Althea looked away. I sensed trouble and wondered what they knew that I didn’t. I had a bad feeling.

Finally, after a few very awkward seconds, Althea finally spoke. “Did it occur to you that Malachi and I broke up around the same time as you and Ellie?” she asked me.

I had forgotten about that, that Althea and Malachi were a bit of an item, however short-lived it was. Still, I’m sure they had some stolen moments of intimacy together, so I know she was probably feeling pretty hurt, too. But I suddenly remembered that her departure from Malachi wasn’t so different from my departure from Ellie.

“You were disillusioned with him, right?” I asked her. “I mean, he is a Class A prat.”

Althea looked at Paige again, then back at me, her face now troubled.

“They were cheating on us, George,” she said quietly.

I should have expected that. It made total sense. But hearing it made it all so…unbelievable. Was that my ego at play?

“How do you know that?” I asked, nearly breathless.

Althea and Paige exchanged sorry glances again.

“I told her, George,” Paige admitted.

“You never told us,” Theo said angrily.

“Well it’s not something one broadcasts around,” Paige said defencively.

“We’re your friends, Paige!” Theo snapped. “This isn’t exactly the rumour mill or anything!”

Paige’s eyes welled with tears just then, only I was in no mood to be sympathetic. I was too angry, too hurt that she had never told me.

“Why didn’t you say anything, Paige?” I asked, close to breaking down.

Tears now stained her lovely cheeks. Paige caressed my shoulder tenderly. “George, you were going through so much during that time and I…you were hurt and angry and confused and I just didn’t want to add to that.”

I couldn’t look at her. “That’s not good enough, Paige,” I said. I shook my head.

“George, I was just trying to protect you from…”

Protect me? What was wrong with everyone? Why did everyone want to jump in and protect me? I was sixteen years old, not a baby! I pulled away from her and got to my feet.

“Geez, Paige,” I groaned, exasperated. But no more words came. “I gotta go.” With that, I left in a huff, dashing through the empty corridors back to Slytherin House. I could barely see straight as I went.

I skipped classes that day. My mind was in no shape to focus on Philosophy or Herbology or History, and there was no way I could manage to perform even the most basic magic. I felt like Dad’s Lethargis potion would never be enough to take away the anxiety and pain that tore through my heart just then. It wasn’t just the news of Ellie’s infidelity that bothered me, but that Paige didn’t tell me.

All day long, I sat by myself in the silver room, leaning against the cold wall, staring at nothing. At first, my thoughts raged in ugly strains, wanting revenge and silence and alienation. But that wouldn’t do. That wasn’t my nature. For the most part, I was a pretty peaceful bloke, more likely to use words than fists to settle an argument. That was Dad’s way, and that was my way, too. But that didn’t mean I was weak, just because I didn’t get physical all the time. Freddy was more likely to punch it out with someone, though most of the time he was pretty reasonable, too. How many times did Freddy or Abraxas or other wizards swoop down to rescue me, take care of me…

Protect me.

Hearing that from Paige, that word “protect,” was the lynchpin to this whole problem. I was sixteen, nearly seventeen, nearly a man. Wasn’t I beyond being protected by everyone around me? Wasn’t it time for me to protect myself, take charge of my own life and decisions? Would I always be doomed to hide behind someone else whilst they did the fighting for me? I couldn’t let that happen.

And then it dawned on me, just as I had dried my eyes for the millionth time as I sat cross-legged on the hard, silver floor of that strange, beautiful room. I knew exactly what I needed to do.

I got three detentions for skiving off classes that day, but I didn’t care. In a way, it was a good thing, like doing penance for some terrible sin I had committed. I saw its justice and welcomed its embrace.

* * * * *

Talking to Paige later on was difficult, but it had to be done. I didn’t want to lose her over a stupid argument. I braced myself for the worst as I approached her that dinnertime at the Gryffindor table.

“This seat taken?” I asked meekly.

Paige beamed. “Uh yeah, it is. By you.”

The burden of apologising suddenly dissolved. I felt light. I leaned towards her and kissed her lips, relieved when she ran her fingers through my hair and kissed me back.

“Sorry about earlier,” I said quietly.

“Me, too.”

Enough said. Her kiss was enough to settle that argument.

“Listen, guys, sorry about my meltdown earlier,” I said guiltily. I felt like a heel. Here I was, trying to get respect and all I could do was act like a fussy First Year.

“You had a pretty major shock, mate,” Theo said. “We don’t blame you for being upset.”

“True. It’s just…this is hard to say, it’s just that…I think I’m spoiled rotten or something.”

Paige laughed. “You? Not hardly.”

“I guess it’s just that I’ve been so overprotected all my life, like I was going to break or something, just because everyone thought I was Magically Challenged.”

Theo nodded understandingly. “You’re lucky, Chaucer. My family is in denial about it, even now.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Althea said.

“I know it is, but it’s true. My grandfather pretty much resents me and treats me like I’m mentally challenged, and my Mum won’t deal with it at all.”

“What does she do?” Paige asked.

“She shops. She goes out. She apparates to faraway places. She drinks.”

I frowned. “She wasn’t always like that, was she?” I asked. “I don’t remember her being that way.”

“Well when I told her this summer about going into muggle computers, that’s when the drinking started. Dad says it’s my fault.”

Althea kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sorry, Theo. That really stinks.”

“Yeah,” Aidan said.

“Our parents don’t care whether we’re Challenged,” Nick said. “I mean, two of my grandparents are muggles, so it’s not like it’s a big deal in our family. Then again, we’re not wizarding royalty, unlike you lot. We’re just the _hoi polloi_.”

Paige giggled at that. “Nick, you’re the best!” she crowed. Even Theo laughed at that.

“But don’t you get tired of people hovering over you like you’re going to break, or ignoring you like a slug?” I asked.

Nick, Aidan, June and Theo all nodded.

“I mean, I know I don’t exactly qualify as Challenged any more, but I get the feeling that my family hasn’t really acknowledged the changes I’ve gone through. Well they have, but not really, you know?” I was rambling now. “My Dad still wants to control my life!”

“Yeah, but part of that is that you’re sixteen,” Paige pointed out.

“Part, but you should have seen how he freaked out after I got mugged!” I retorted.

“Getting mugged is pretty serious!” Theo exclaimed. “I think I’d freak out, too!”

“Your father took it relatively well,” Paige replied. “You should have heard my father lay into Abraxas after it happened. He treated him like he was the one who had mugged you. I haven’t seen Father like that in ages. It was pretty scary. Abraxas actually cried a little, it was that bad, I mean, Abraxas never cries.”

“Did your Dad apologise to Abraxas?” Nick asked.

Paige snorted. “My father, apologise? Never. He doesn’t really do apologies, except to George’s father. He’d say apologies are for lower life forms, not for Malfoys.”

“He’s such a brat!” Althea said with a snigger.

“George, your Dad just wants you to be safe,” June said sympathetically.

“I know,” I admitted. “But he can’t shield me from everything. How will I learn if I don’t get hurt? If I can’t get heartbroken, then how will I know about love and life and all that stuff? I have to be free to screw up, you know?”

Theo laughed. “Don’t worry, mate. You screw up often enough around here! Didn’t you get detention today?”

Paige gasped. Althea laughed. “You got detention?” Paige asked.

“Three! From Longbottom, McGonagall and Mill,” I told them.

“Mill? The Philosophy professor?” Althea asked.

I scowled a little. “When he asked me where I was today, I told him I was busy having an existential experience. So then he told me that I’d be able to continue that existential experience in detention.”

Everyone laughed.

* * * * *

The adverts worked really well at school, as it turned out. Severus…that is, Professor Snape, gave us permission to hang the posters on all the main bulletin boards around the school, and quickly, they became the topic of much conversation. What was interesting was that until they saw Theo and Nick and the others on those posters, no one had really given the issue much thought.

That was about to change.

Leave it to Mulciber, now a strapping Second Year, to start things up. Although he was still twelve, he may as well have been my age, because the boy was positively massive. He’d grown at least a foot over the summer, and was clearly getting into excellent shape. But along with the bigger physique came a nastier attitude, more pomp and an annoying level of snide hubris. Mulciber was the sort who gave Slytherin a bad name.

Anyway, one fine Wednesday afternoon at lunch, Mulciber decided to have another go at Theo, for old time’s sake, I suppose. Along he came, towards all of us sitting at the Ravenclaw table, sharing chips and sauce a huge platter of treacle tarts–he looked like a agitated baboon. Alongside him strode two new cronies—an oversized First Year called Avery, and another Second Year, a weedy Slytherin boy called Dolohov. Apparently their fathers and grandfathers all knew each other back in their Death Eater days.

“Hey Scrimgeour,” Mulciber called out.

Theo turned to glance at him, and without so much as a twitch of an eye, turned back around to continue the chip stacking contest between himself and Althea. Althea was kicking his arse. Little Dursley sat at her side, cheering her on.

“Scrimgeour, I thought of something else you have in common with a hippogryff!” Mulciber sneered. Everyone started to crane their necks to see what was going on.

“Watch it, Theo,” Althea whispered.

Together, Theo and I stood up to face the brat.

“You got something to say, Mulciber?” I asked.

“Why would I talk to you, Chaucer?” he shot back. He reached inside his robes, ready to pull out his wand.

That was it. I advanced on him, ready to punch his lights out if I had to. By now, my brother, Tom had joined me, along with an outraged Althea.

“What do you want, Mulciber?” I asked him pointedly. I drew my wand, too.

But Mulciber laughed. “What are you going to do with that, you Squib? Stick it in my ear?”

“I just might,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.

And then he moved to throw a hex at me. To my shock, I reacted before he did—I pointed my wand at him and shouted, “Expelliarmus!” And to everyone’s shock, the wand flew out of Mulciber’s hand, clattering on the floor near the Gryffindor table.

Someone at the Hufflepuff table clapped. “Way to go, Chaucer! You did a spell!” he shouted in the distance.

Everyone laughed.

“Go pick up your wand and get the hell out of here, Mulciber, before I accidentally turn you into a goat,” I said dangerously. “I won’t be able to change you back.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “You got lucky today, Chaucer,” he said. Thankfully, Mulciber took this opportunity to turn on his heel and head to the Gryffindor table to retrieve his wand. To my delight, a group of Seventh Years had confiscated the wand and were making him jump up and down in order to get it back.

Theo clapped me on the shoulder. “You really did get lucky,” he whispered in my ear.

I laughed. “I know. I’ve never done the disarming charm before.”

Word spread pretty fast about what I had done, and before I knew it, loads of people came up to me to congratulate me on a job well done.

“He’s just a Second Year,” I said.

“A big, nasty Second Year,” a friend from Gryffindor said. “Word is that he, Avery and Dolohov are up to something, sort of in memory of their ancestors.

“You mean baby Death Eaters?” June asked, a little nervous.

“Daddy knows about it,” Althea said. “He’s taking steps to be sure they don’t get too far with that.”

“Wasn’t he a Death Eater?” someone asked.

We all looked up at a snide Malachi Zabini, holding hands once again with Ellie, who looked equally pinched. I didn’t know her any more.

“And your cousin, Blaise, was nearly one,” I retorted. “If it hadn’t been for my Dad getting his bony arse out of all that!”

“Why don’t you go and learn your history, Zabini!” Althea snapped. “Then you’ll really know what my father did!”

Malalchi snorted. “Oh, you mean besides killing Albus Dumbledore?”

Althea jumped to her feet, wand out. The rest of us rushed to intervene, not wanting Althea to unleash her fury against Malachi—she could do some pretty nasty stuff to anyone who said a bad word against her father. She was as protective of Severus as Dad was.

“Ignore him, Thea,” Paige said haughtily. “It’s just Zabini making noise.”

Malachi laughed. “Right, Malfoy, go on and defend her. After all, we all know what YOUR father did!”

“And we won’t even mention your mother,” Ellie added with a smirk.

Now Paige had her wand out, pointing it directly at Ellie’s throat.

“Well, Zabini,” she growled, “are you going to save your little whore here, or is she just good enough for shagging?”

“You bitch!” Ellie shrieked. Instead of pulling out her wand, she reached back and smacked Paige right across the face.

That was it. Paige actually threw down her wand and lunged at Ellie, grabbing her by the hair and pulling hard. I threw my arms around her to pull her off, but she had such a tight grip on Ellie’s hair that it was hard to separate them. Malachi was having equal trouble pulling Ellie away, as Ellie had such a hard grip on Paige’s arm, which she was twisting as hard and as far as she could until Paige shrieked in pain and loosened her hold on Ellie’s hair. By then, Professors Longbottom, Mill and Sinistra rushed to the scene and with a flash of light from Sinistra’s wand, the screeching girls flew apart.

“That is enough!” Longbottom shouted. “Malfoy, Gray, you are both in serious trouble!”

“But Professor, that’s not fair to punish Paige!” Althea shouted. “She was provoked! Ellie hit first!”

“It’s true, Professor,” Aidan said. “They were arguing and then Ellie hit Paige! Look, she broke Paige’s arm!”

It was true. I cradled a whimpering Paige in my arms as she held onto her own, very black and blue arm—it was clearly broken in the fight.

“I am going to call all of you to the Headmaster’s Office and we’ll get this whole mess cleared up,” Longbottom ordered. “In the meantime, Miss Gray, you will return to Ravenclaw immediately, and Miss Malfoy, you will come with me to the Hospital Wing. Both you girls have lost your houses one hundred points each. There is no excuse for fighting, no matter who said what. Is that clear?”

I helped Paige to her feet and accompanied her to the Hospital Wing—we had to walk slowly, to minimise the pain in her arm. Longbottom questioned us the entire way.

“What went on in there?” he asked.

“Trash talk,” I replied. “It just got out of control. Malachi started saying bad stuff about Severus…that is, Professor Snape and Mr. Malfoy.”

Longbottom frowned. “He insulted Professor Snape? In front of Althea?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied. “That’s why Paige spoke up. She was just trying to stand up for Althea, and then they started in on Mr. Malfoy. It was a pretty ugly scene, sir.” Paige burst into tears and buried her head in my shoulder. I held her tight. 

We all stopped at the threshold of the Hospital Wing.

“Right,” Longbottom said. “George, if you could keep an eye on Miss Malfoy for a while, be with her while her arm is mended.”

“Yes, sir. Of course.”

“And I will take this up with Professor Snape,” he continued. “Perhaps something can be worked out.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said.

Paige was still upset and crying, so I sat with her for a long time, just holding her as her arm was mended and bandaged. We sat up in her bed, on top of the covers, of course, just content to be together. She had supported me through so many hard times these days, and it was nice to be able to return the favour.

My mind ran wild with ideas.


	26. A Change of Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I stayed up late that night, still struggling for the right words for Dad. No, I didn’t accidentally apparate this time. My anxiety wasn’t THAT bad. But it was enough to get me out of bed and down to the kitchen at three in the morning._
> 
> _He must have heard me, sensed my distress somehow. No sooner had I helped myself to a second slice of cake then Dad came into the kitchen, tapping on the doorpost as he entered._
> 
> _“It’s late,” he said._
> 
> _“Just a little insomnia.”_
> 
> _“You taking Lethargis?”_
> 
> _I nodded. “Every day.”_
> 
> _Dad took a plate from the cabinet and helped himself to cake. He conjured two glasses of brandy for us._
> 
> _“You’re old enough,” he said._

When I think back on the person I was just a year and a half ago, I hardly know myself. I was such a sheltered, proper, skittish person, eager to please, too ready to acquiesce to whatever the authority figures in my life dictated to me. That included my parents, but it wasn’t limited to them.

And then magic entered my life, and everything changed.

To be sure, I had gained a lot—status, identity, a place in the wizarding world. But I had lost something, too. I lost Ellie, though I wasn’t so sure that was a bad thing. I lost my innocence in a way, though that wasn’t entirely a bad thing. The mugging and its aftermath had seen to that. And I lost at least some of the fear and anxiety that had marked and damaged my youth—that was a very good thing. One thing was certain—I was no longer the same old George Weasley-Chaucer that I had been not so long ago. I had found a modicum of strength, and in a way, I had become even more like my father than ever before.

I liked that. What did it really matter if my magic was sub-par? I was heading into territory that involved hearts and minds, not just magical abilities. In that sense, I was very different from Dad. I liked that, too.

This was my moment.

Time for honesty. Squib rights? Equality for the Magically Challenged? Who the bloody hell cared except for me and a handful of others? That was the big obstacle, to convince people, Squibs included, that this was a real issue that was actually important. After all, there were so many homeless and impoverished Squibs, or those like Theo who sought success elsewhere because there were so many limits otherwise.

OK, so we weren’t going to convince the Mulcibers or the Malachis of the world, or even the Ellies, but most people thankfully weren’t like that. Most witches and wizards had a heart, and I bet that most of them didn’t know just how many laws there were that regulated every single move a Squib made in our world. I wanted to appeal to their sense of fairness and justice, but I also knew that I had to change hearts, and that would take time.

As the weeks pressed on, therefore, I had come to a serious realisation—I had a feeling Dad wouldn’t like it, but I had to make a decision.

* * * * *

Paige’s broken arm healed within a couple of days, but her problems were nowhere near over. She was in serious trouble, as were Ellie and Althea. We all did everything we could to speak up on Paige’s behalf—Althea was particularly persistent with her father, but to no avail. I guess it made sense on a certain level. How could he play favourites with his daughter’s good friend? On the other hand, Paige spoke up in defence of Althea. Severus had been slandered, and I made sure that he knew it. His dispassionate response left me underwhelmed. In fact, he showed no emotion whatsoever, and he even told me off.

“And you suppose that in the past twenty years, I have never heard an ill word against me from a student?” he asked acerbically.

“The past is in the past, sir! I mean, they have no idea what happened!”

He raised an eyebrow as I sat before his desk. “And I suppose you do?”

I blushed red-hot. “Well…”

“Words are just that—words, noise. That is all. There is no excuse for what Miss Malfoy did, nor for what my own daughter did.”

I guess if he wasn’t letting Althea off the hook, Paige had no chance.

“Sir,” I persisted, “Paige only got involved to stand up for Althea. She tried to get Althea to ignore them! She was provoked! And Ellie struck first!”

He glared at me. “For the last time, Chaucer, there is NO excuse for violence! I am well aware of who struck first, and I shall take that under advisement as I render their punishment. Now get out.”

By the time I left his office, Paige was already back in Gryffindor House, so I wouldn’t get to see her until the morning. I hoped that my cousin would be merciful. After all, none of the girls had a reputation for fighting or bullying or any sort of seriously bad behaviour. I prayed that Severus would see reason.

The next morning, I fully expected to see the girls at breakfast, but to my dismay, I didn’t see Paige, Althea or even Ellie. Malachi skulked at the Ravenclaw table, the prat, all alone. Served him right, the prick. But I worried all the same. As the day crawled, I still saw nothing of them, heard nothing, could gather no information whatsoever about their fate.

And then…

At the very end of dinner, a very tired-looking Paige and Althea emerged from the shadows, subdued but uninjured—Severus hadn’t had them caned or hanged or anything too awful. But all of us were dying to know what had gone on all day.

“So?” I asked as Paige and Althea sat down with us at the Hufflepuff table.

Paige sighed. “Detention. Twenty hours with Professor Longbottom. And a letter home.”

“That’s better than suspension,” Nick said.

“Or expulsion,” Aidan noted.

Paige nodded. “If I have to go to another meeting, I think I’ll disapparate.”

“Will your Dad be mad?” June asked.

Paige smirked. “My father? I don’t think so. He’ll be bloody chuffed! He’ll probably give me a thousand Galleons for smacking the bitch down!”

I laughed. “Why do I believe you?”

“What happened to Ellie?” Theo asked.

“Same,” Paige replied. “Only she got forty hours detention for striking the first blow.” She winked at me.

“And Ravenclaw lost double the points that Slytherin or Gryffindor did!” Althea crowed, that is, until Theo frowned. “Sorry Theo.”

“You’ll have to start getting Os on all your exams so you can earn those points back, Theo!” Nick said. We all laughed at that.

“And maybe even break up a few more girlfights,” Aidan said.

“It’s so weird,” I said. “It’s like people have gone crazy or something! Two fights in a day? And you, Nick, going after Malachi! What is wrong with everyone?”

“It’s all about image,” Althea said. “People like Ellie and Malachi get crazy when image changes. It’s like what happened to you and Ellie, when you started on that potion. Suddenly you were sort of strange, a kid on medication for a mental problem.”

I made a face at that. “Are you suggesting our publicity campaign is what started all this?” I asked.

Althea shrugged. “Maybe.”

“That’s ludicrous!” I shot back. I knew she was right, of course. Althea usually was.

“The posters are really powerful,” Althea said. “You had just the right idea about them, George, and they’re working!”

“By prompting fights?” June wondered.

“By making people think about something new, something the wizarding world has to change,” Althea said. “The students are talking about them! And the teachers are talking, too, even in class!”

“Maybe Ellie and Malachi are jealous,” Theo mused. “I mean, the bunch of us are doing a good thing for society, and all they care about is how well they look in their Saturday night robes.”

I paused. “Next stop Diagon Alley, then?”

* * * * *

“Let me do that, George,” Uncle Fred said. He took the poster from me and, using a sticking charm, displayed it on the shop window.

Severus had allowed Althea and me to go to London to distribute and display our posters. Together we had gone all over Diagon Alley, and most shopkeepers were happy to let us post our stuff. The Leaky Cauldron took one, as did Flourish and Blott’s, and even Ollivander’s took one for their window. At the bottom of the poster we had included an address where people could voice their concerns. No one else except Althea liked that idea, but I didn’t see how we could get feedback any other way.

Hanging all those posters took a lot longer than either of us had planned, and by the time we arrived back at Hogwarts, dinner was halfway over. Tonight it was something new—taquitos, salsa, Spanish rice. It was really good, one of the best meals I’d ever had at Hogwarts.

“Mission accomplished?” Theo asked as Althea and I sat down with everyone at the Slytherin table.

“Nearly everyone took one,” I said. “Whether they’ll actually post them is another matter, though most people let us put it up ourselves. My uncles took three.”

“Did you go to St. Mungo's?” Paige asked.

“No, though we went to the homeless shelter,” Althea replied. “Abraxas says hi.”

“We wanted to put some up at Platform 9¾, but the portal was closed,” I said.

“You can put them up in December,” Nick suggested.

“And hope they don’t get ripped down,” Theo added.

“Do you think they’ll stay up?” Paige wondered. “Will people even look at them?”

“I think so,” I said. “I mean, the idea is that the posters are a constant presence, like silent reminders of the subject. I’m going to write an essay about wizard laws regarding the Magically Challenged over the Christmas holiday. Hopefully Mum will be able to pull a few strings for me and get it published.”

Paige beamed. “This is so exciting, George!”

“And then there’s that summit,” Nick reminded us. “That’s even more exciting.”

But that worried me. It wasn’t that I was nervous about it, well, not entirely anyway. But I wasn’t so sure that it was the best idea any more. At the time, when Dad proposed it, it sounded too good to be true. An international audience would hear my words and be magically swayed by the power of my prose—equality would reign supreme, and there would be no more strife again.

Who was I kidding?

The more I thought about it, the more resolute I became that I would not speak at the summit. This wasn’t cold feet or anything. It just wasn’t…right. I hoped that Dad would understand. He had pulled a lot of strings, I was sure, to get me a spot on the agenda, and I knew he would be terribly disappointed if I didn’t go through with the speech. But how could I speak when I had barely gotten things off the ground in Britain?

As December approached, my worries grew, as if I had never taken a drop of the Lethargis potion in my life. I couldn’t sleep much any more, and my mind was filled with too many scenarios of me telling my Dad, “sorry to be a disappointment to you but I’m not going to Los Angeles with you.” It was disgusting.

The one thing that had drastically improved in that space of time was my magic. I don’t know if my charging emotions had something to do with my sudden progress, but I suspect it did. Mind you, I was still very far behind all the other Sixth Years. My magic had grown, but only to the proficiency level of a Third Year. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t as terrible as before. Severus had given me a very brief lesson on how to hold a wand correctly, with the butt of the handle pressed into my palm—I tried it out, and it made a huge difference. He didn’t really explain why, but I didn’t really care, either.

My mood should have been light and cheery as we made our way to Hogsmeade station, but instead, just like last year, I was fraught with worry and anxiety. On top of that, Lydia had come down with an awful head cold—Tom conjured up an Unending Handkerchief that he kept in a small, wooden box, and every time Lydia sneezed, a new stretch of handkerchief would pop out of the box for her. Tom was really clever with magic, really creative, just like our uncles.

Paige and I sat close, hand in hand, snuggled against each other on the train ride home. Suddenly, her hand squirmed, trying to release itself from my grip.

“You stressing still?” she asked.

“A little.”

“A little? You’re squashing my hand!”

I instantly loosened my hold on her. “Sorry. A lot on my mind.”

“Such as?”

“Just an uncomfortable conversation I have to have with Dad, is all,” I replied glumly.

Paige frowned. “You’re not still in trouble for the mugging, are you?”

“It’s not that. I’ll tell you about it when you come for my birthday.”

She frowned again. “Does Althea know?”

I knew what Paige meant—after all, Althea and I had become close friends this term. “Paige, you do know that Althea and I are related, right? I like her a lot, but I’m not really into incest.”

She nodded, satisfied. We went back to snuggling. Lydia sneezed again.

At King’s Cross, I did everything I could to look as chipper and happy as I could, desperately trying to mask my anxiety. Dad and Mum and a much grown Will greeted us with their usual warmth and round of hugs and kisses—and Freddy came to the station, too! He looked different, mature. He’d grown an awful beard—it looked scraggly on him, as if it were so new that it didn’t know what to do on his face. His hair was a little darker for some reason, almost auburn rather than ginger-coloured.

Dinner was massive, and Grandma Chaucer brought a huge chocolate cake from Miss Julie’s Bakery—somehow Freddy managed to summon the cake all the way from St. Luke without damaging it. We all sat around the dinner table, telling stories of fistfights, photography and jaunts to Diagon Alley. It really was quite a term.

“I wish I’d been there to see Paige brawling with Ellie,” Freddy said with a laugh.

“She didn’t get into too much trouble, did she?” Mum asked.

“Like fun she didn’t,” Tom said. “She got a ton of detention and Severus even wrote to Mr. Malfoy!”

Dad sniggered. “Draco’ll give her a medal for it,” he said. Mum rolled her eyes, but laughed.

“That’s our Draco,” she said. “Always the pillar of society. Thank the gods he raised some great kids.”

Dad winced. “Can you imagine if they turned out like him?” He and Mum laughed at the thought.

“Oh wait, speaking of spoilt brats,” Dad said, “how’s that Dursley kid?”

“I like him,” Lydia said. She blew her nose.

“He’s like a Pygmy Puff!” Tom said. “Kinda roly-poly and harmless, you know?”

“Did Mr. Potter ever meet him?” I asked.

Mum shrugged. “I doubt it. Harry and Dudley didn’t get on, so I can’t imagine Harry would be remotely interested. You know, their Molly is starting up next year at Hogwarts.”

“She’s not daffy like her Mum, is she?” Tom asked.

“Tom, that is unkind!” Mum snapped. “You barely even know Mrs. Potter!”

“She planted peanut shells in their strawberry patch,” Tom said. “That’s daffy!”

Dad smirked. “Luna has her own special gifts, son. Better daffy than evil, right?”

Tom scowled, a little disappointed. He nodded.

I stayed up late that night, still struggling for the right words for Dad. No, I didn’t accidentally apparate this time. My anxiety wasn’t THAT bad. But it was enough to get me out of bed and down to the kitchen at three in the morning.

He must have heard me, sensed my distress somehow. No sooner had I helped myself to a second slice of cake then Dad came into the kitchen, tapping on the doorpost as he entered.

“It’s late,” he said.

“Just a little insomnia.”

“You taking Lethargis?”

I nodded. “Every day.”

Dad took a plate from the cabinet and helped himself to cake. He conjured two glasses of brandy for us.

“You’re old enough,” he said. “Seventeen in just a few days.”

“I don’t want to do the summit, Dad,” I blurted out. I hadn’t meant to do it that way, but I did, so there it was. I had no idea what he would say now.

Dad carefully set down his fork and looked into my eyes, troubled. “George, you’re not nervous about it, are you?”

“It’s not that, Dad. I mean, maybe I’m a little nervous, but that’s not why I don’t want to do this.”

“The international community is eager to hear you, George.”

I sighed. “I want to speak to them, Dad, I really do, but not now. It’s too soon. I barely know what I’m doing with all this, and I guess I feel that if I speak to them, I might cock it up and say the wrong thing.”

Dad reached forward and mussed my hair. “You won’t say the wrong thing, George. I know you won’t.”

I fiddled with a hangnail for a moment. “Can I be honest with you, Dad?”

“Of course.”

“And you won’t get mad or offended or anything?”

“George, what is it?” Dad asked, now really concerned. “You want me to butt out, right?”

“It’s not that, Dad,” I said, feeling guilty. “I want you involved. I need you to be involved. But I need to do it my way, in my own time. Does that make sense?”

Dad smiled. “Perfectly, son.” He stood up and kissed me on the forehead. “Hey, don’t stay up too late, alright? You need your beauty sleep.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

I love you.


	27. The International Confederation of Wizards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _London is a muggle city, and Los Angeles is even more so. As we walked the streets of Hollywood, dressed in uncomfortable muggle attire, I couldn’t help but wonder just how many of these people might be magical. Then again, if I stopped and asked someone on the street whether they were magical, I didn’t know what sort of answer I would get in a place like Hollywood._

Work. Study. Planning. Research. Writing. The Silver Room.

That room.

It was such a life saver, especially throughout the next term. It was startling how fast it all went. Paige was extremely busy that term preparing for her OWLs, but we managed to see a lot of each other. Sometimes we even brought schoolwork to the Silver Room so that in between snogs we could get a few things done. We were total nerds. It’s a good thing we weren’t shagging because had anything unexpected happened, we wouldn’t have had any time to deal with the outcome.

I loved being seventeen because for us, that meant I was an adult. And even though I wouldn’t be a fully qualified wizard for a very long time, if ever, I had a lot more autonomy. I took full advantage of that, in my Dad’s style, and made it very plain to both my parents that my life was my own, to be lived as I saw fit.

As July 1 neared, I had thought again about my conversation with Dad back in December. While I was more resolute than ever not to speak to the International Confederation of Wizards, I did allow Dad to persuade me to attend the summit with him, but as a vendor, not as a speaker. What that meant was that I, along with dozens of other vendors, set up our display booths outside the convention hall. Most were selling things, and others represented organisations or charities.

When I decided to attend as a vendor, I realised that I needed a name for my organization. Freddy, Tom, Lydia and I wracked our brains trying to think of something good.

“Civil Rights for Squibs!” Tom suggested.

Freddy glared at him. “How about Challenge the magic?” he suggested. “You know, sort of a play on Magically Challenged?”

No.

“Equality Today!” Lydia thought.

No.

“Advancement for the Magically Challenged?”

Close. But no.

Tom thought hard. “Partnership for…uh…for…”

Freddy filled in. “Partnership for…” But he stalled, too.

“What about ‘Community’?” Lydia suggested.

Not bad. Pretty damn good, actually.

And so, Community was born. The new batch of publicity materials now included posters, a brochure that Paige and Althea developed, and S-Cards with biographies of Magically Challenged individuals in Britain who had done interesting things. We even included Mr. Filch, just for fun. Grandpa Weasley and Aunt Hermione helped me make feedback cards and sort of Guest Book where people could leave their thoughts about the issue.

I don’t think Professors Snape or McGonagall ever thought of how fortuitous their decision was to restrict my usual classes. I needed time and now I had time to put all this together, so that when July arrived, I’d be ready to go, materials in hand. OK, I was getting pretty excited. It was sort of the best of both worlds—Dad was getting his way, but so was I.

Dad and I decided to make it a sort of father-son trip—Tom came with us, too, which I really loved. It was only in the last couple of months that I had gotten closer with my younger brother, and now that he was getting older, we had a lot more in common. Freddy joined us as well—Will was a little too young for this, and Lydia was spending a lot of the summer with Andromeda Malfoy, so they were off doing whatever it is that girls do together.

You hear a lot of rumours about Los Angeles—La-La Land, Hollyweird, the People’s Republic of Santa Monica, that sort of thing. One thing I really wanted to see was the ocean. I wanted to stand on Zuma Beach with my toes in the white hot sand, looking out to the peaceful horizon. And I wanted to go to Ripley’s Believe-It-Or-Not—I thought that would be really funny, just to see what it was that muggles thought was strange. I had no idea how many witches and wizards lived in Los Angeles, but I suspected a fair few. After all, it’s a big city, one of the biggest in the world.

We stayed at a wizard hotel in downtown Los Angeles—much like the Leaky Cauldron, you can only notice it if you’re from the wizarding world. Just behind the famous Bradbury building, the hotel stood in all its glory, with elegant fountains and rolling lawns leading up to the front entrance. I saw a peacock strutting about blithely as witches and wizards came and went. All of us gasped as we entered the main lobby of the hotel—it made Malfoy Manor look cheap by comparison—this was the most sumptuous, elegant place I’d ever seen. The four of us checked into our massive suite in the top floor of the hotel and did a little sightseeing, talking all the while about all this Hollywood glamour.

London is a muggle city, and Los Angeles is even more so. As we walked the streets of Hollywood, dressed in uncomfortable muggle attire, I couldn’t help but wonder just how many of these people might be magical. Then again, if I stopped and asked someone on the street whether they were magical, I didn’t know what sort of answer I would get in a place like Hollywood. 

Rather than hiring a car, Dad and Freddy apparated me and Tom around town, making sure to land in hidden away places. We saw everything: Beverly Hills, Santa Monica, Hollywood, downtown, UCLA, Universal Studios, the Music Centre. And the beach. Dad took us to an excellent muggle restaurant in Malibu, and we sat by a window that overlooked the ocean. It was a glorious sight, watching the sunset in its brilliant reds and oranges and purples. As it disappeared into the vast horizon, I could only stare in wonder at the intense power of nature. In a way, I felt a sort of energy surge within me—was that magic or goosebumps?

The next day, we set up our booth—Dad had to pay 200 Galleons for our spot—that was pretty steep, as far as I was concerned, especially as we weren’t selling anything. Oh well. We brought five crates of materials, with the vain hope that I’d give away every last brochure and information card. In truth, I had no idea whether we’d get a single interested party. I had this image in my mind of myself standing all alone, trying to thrust my materials into the hands of disinterested parties, only to watch them toss them to the ground where they would be trampled underfoot.

Our booth was right next to one that was selling life insurance for elderly witches and wizards. The witch who ran the booth was a bubbly, exuberant American from St. Louis, Missouri.

“I’ve been in the insurance game for a couple of years,” she told us, mostly looking at Freddy. She was quite pretty, something that Freddy clearly noticed. He was laying on the charm pretty bloody thick.

“So you sell to the international community?” Dad asked.

“Oh yeah, everywhere, even to you Brits,” she said. “I’m Sandy, by the way.”

“Hi, I’m Nigel,” Dad said. “This is Freddy, my eldest, and George, and Tom.”

Sandy looked very curiously at Dad, then at me. She knew. “Oh my gods! You’re Nigel Chaucer, aren’t you?” she gasped.

Dad blushed lightly. “Well yeah, that’s me.”

“OH MY GODS!!!” she declared. “You are like my IDOL! It’s SO great to meet you!”

We all thought she might faint right there. But before it could progress any farther, more vendors arrived, plunking their stuff down and setting up shop alongside us. It was a welcome relief—Dad took it as a signal to busy himself with us. Tom smirked.

The next day, Dad and Freddy attended the conferences, and Tom and I plotted our strategy. Tom is one of those guys who has a huge personality and a lot of charisma. He could sell snow to Eskimos if he really wanted to. Anyway, Tom stood in front of the booth, calling the witches and wizards over to us, armed with brochures. Once they came by, the idea was, I would fill them in on the details of the issue.

Lots people passed by—a few stopped to take information and talk. Some didn’t speak English, so there wasn’t much I could say to them other than thank you and have a nice day. Some who stopped weren’t that interested, but willing to take the information, and a few were a bit offended for some reason.

“Why are you doing this?” one Australian witch asked. “It’s society’s job to take care of the less fortunate, isn’t it?”

I got a lot of that. I explained that the Magically Challenged weren’t physically challenged or mentally challenged. I explained that they could hold down jobs and make valuable contributions to society at large. I explained that the Magically Challenged deserved fair treatment and that they deserved not to be penalised for their condition. Some accepted my words, but some didn’t. It was hard to tell whether they were taking it seriously or just viewing me as some idealistic kid doing a school project.

At dinner that night, I was exhausted. Dad took us to a gourmet hamburger restaurant in Beverly Hills—as tired as I was, I ate every bite on my plate, and even ate a few of Dad’s chips. Tom was energized, which amazed me. He couldn’t stop talking about all the strange witches and wizards we talked to during the day, including one wizard from Canada who wore garlands of garlic around his neck and wrists. Apparently he’d dueled a vampire a few years back and was trying to protect himself. We all laughed as Tom impersonated a vampire.

Los Angeles was a flurry of excitement, and like so many who traveled there, I hoped that my dreams would become a reality.

* * * * *

We wanted to do a longer trip, but Freddy had to get back, as did Dad. Tom quickly got busy with a couple of his friends from school, and I went straight to Malfoy Manor to visit Paige—that reunion was sweet. I told her all about the trip to America, which pleased her very much.

“So you think it was successful?” she asked. We sat by the pond, looking out over the sparkling waters.

“It wasn’t stellar or anything, but it was a lot better than what I anticipated,” I said. “We got rid of about seventy-five percent of our materials, so that was one of the best parts. And I did meet a couple of people who want to talk further about the issue.”

“I suppose most said ‘what’s the problem?’ right?”

I chuckled. “Pretty much. But not as many as I thought. In fact, a lot of people were pretty shocked at how bad the laws are against the Magically Challenged. I really wanted to shock the hell out of them, you know?”

She kissed me. “I think it was a good idea. Maybe next time you can speak up, like your Dad suggested.”

“Maybe. Hopefully by then we’ll have something more concrete underway. Maybe we will have changed a law or two!”

She smiled. “You should study law after Hogwarts.”

I sat up. “Maybe I will.”

Maybe I really would. But I had a year to go, and lots to do.

But then I received a real shock. In the middle of July, as we were heading towards Dad’s birthday and Freddy’s second year of Healer Training, Professor Snape…that is, Severus, made a very unexpected visit. Not only that, but the entire Snape family came—Mrs. Snape, Aurora, Althea, even Nigel Brian came. That in itself was a rarity. Normally, Nigel Brian preferred the seclusion of the Library with his few friends and “intellectual equals.” That used to make Dad laugh.

“He’s worse than his father,” he told me once.

Lydia and Tom made a fantastic dinner for the twelve of us—roasted chicken, scalloped potatoes, steamed vegetables, and Lydia’s specialty pudding, a recipe she refused to share with anyone. Even Dad couldn’t quite discern all the ingredients, and he’s the best potions maker around. All we knew was that it involved chocolate, cinnamon and lots of butter. What else mattered?

We got family updates: Aurora was starting Auror training in August after spending the last year unsure of what she wanted to do. Tom joked that she’d be Aurora the Auror. She was still with Abraxas Malfoy, though they had no plans to marry any time soon. That was good. Mum and Dad married really young, but then again, they were sort of ahead of their own age. I can’t say the same for Aurora or Abraxas.

After we all ate more than our share of pudding, Mrs. Snape made some coffee and Severus conjured a bottle of cognac for all of us over seventeen. As we all made our way to the living room to relax, Severus motioned for me to come aside with him for a moment, away from the rest of the party—we stepped into the entrance hall, where he reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a small envelope, which he handed to me.

“Normally, this is sent in a letter, however, I felt a need to present this to you personally,” he said. “Open it.”

I had no idea what it was. Whatever was inside the envelope was small and rigid and…it felt like a little plaque or picture frame…or a shield? I pulled open the wax seal and unfolded the letter of congratulations—the object, to my horror, was a badge…a Head Boy badge. I blanched.

“What is this?” I asked stupidly. “I…I don’t understand, I mean…”

“You don’t know what that is?”

“I know what it is, sir, I just don’t get why you’re giving this to me.”

He knitted his brow. I was sure he was mocking me. “Do you think I’m mocking you?”

That made me start. “Maybe.”

“George, why would I mock someone I respect?”

I had no response. I was stunned.

“George, I have no other candidates even remotely in mind. You need this as much as the school needs you. You will soon be in a position of authority after you leave school, and you need to know how to handle authority.”

“I do know how to handle authority!” I snapped. I didn’t mean to sound so…mean.

He briefly scowled. “Both your parents, as well as three of your uncles can tell you very well how much being Head Boy trains you up for positions of leadership in future. Unlike your peers, who will undoubtedly fall into pre-made professions.”

“Such as teaching?”

Severus scowled again. “And being Healers.”

Touché.

“But you are creating your own future, and not just for your own benefit,” he added. The man had a point.

I saw what he meant, but I still didn’t like the idea of being pushed into something I didn’t necessarily want to do. After all, what about my project? What about my classes? OK, the class was a non-issue, and my magic was finally coming along alright. There was my project, of course, but I was sure I could spare the time. OK. I sighed.

“Well, Professor…”

“Severus. Call me Professor at school, not in your own home.”

“Severus, then. I’ve thought about it, and I accept your offer.”

* * * * *

Head Boy. Head Boy. I needed to repeat it to myself, not to brag but to get used to the idea. What would everyone else say? I hadn’t even been Prefect first! OK, so neither was Dad, but his situation was totally different, and besides, Professor McGonagall had chosen him Head Boy, not Severus. In a way, Dad’s tenure as Head Boy would make things a lot easier for me. At least I didn’t have the burden of uniting the Houses or anything like that. All I had to do was keep people in line and bust people for infractions and be a sort of peer support person for anyone who needed some guidance.

I hardly knew what I would say—what did I have to offer anyone by way of guidance? Maybe I’m just being too modest. Probably. Maybe growing up Magically Challenged was an asset, not a disadvantage. Maybe living as a relative outsider in my own world for sixteen years had given me some perspective. Maybe I did have something to offer. I guess I’d find out soon.

Ellie would flip out. So would Malachi and Mulciber.

But who cared? They were a bunch of losers as far as I was concerned. Besides, what was even better was that I knew how excited Paige would be—all my friends would. I was sure they’d also be pretty bloody shocked by the choice. In truth, though I was always a straight-O student in “normal” days, these last couple of terms had been extremely different, extremely non-academic. I hoped no one would get upset by it. I wanted to do good by it, be worthy of the post.

As the world unfolded before me, at once rough and sweet and jagged, a strange irony occurred to me. I walked behind Severus as we re-entered the party, noting that just then, he stood a little bit taller, his shoulders a bit prouder, his gait almost a strut. It made me want to laugh just a bit, but at the same time, it made me want to cry. He was the man who unnerved me more than anyone, yet he had just expressed something tremendously warm-hearted and sincere. I hardly knew what to think, other than to wonder at who Severus Snape really was. Dad always held him in the highest esteem—for years I doubted that, but now, I didn’t really know.

The future lay wide open and enticing and…scary. I suddenly needed Severus almost as much as I needed my friends and my family.

What would happen next? I have no idea, but I look forward to the next chapter of my life, wanting only equality and peace…and a bloody good time. Who would desire anything less?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed reading George's story, the sequel will be coming to AO3 very soon! Happy reading and thanks for your comments!


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